


All the King's Men

by thefoxinthesweater



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, PTSD, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Psychological Trauma, Some Fluff, combat trauma, memory recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-01-27 00:03:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1707476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefoxinthesweater/pseuds/thefoxinthesweater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Bucky together again. Or is it Steve who is broken?</p><p>They are both haunted by their pasts, but it is easier when they are together. Steve vows to protect Bucky while he regains his memory, but HYDRA shows him that his promises are empty. Hints of Stucky in the beginning, with a more established relationship coming in later chapters. First chapter can be read as a slightly fluffier stand-alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multi-chapter work, but the first chapter can be read as a stand-alone piece if you prefer fluffier stories, because it'll get darker from here. Thanks for reading--and feedback is much appreciated :)
> 
> And a huge thank you to Allyoop for editing this and being a Marvelous mentor and friend :)

_White_

His vision was blank when Hydra brought him out of cryostasis for his last mission. _Steve Rogers,_ they had said, giving him only the information he needed to know before sending their killing machine into a world he knew nothing about. All the Winter Soldier needed was programmed in his brain, and he only needed one direction: kill.

_Black_

His metal arm plunged into the opaque waters, reaching for his mission. While the helicarriers exploded above him, he dove deeper, grabbing the man in the blue suit--his mission. The Winter Soldier pulled the man onto the shore, dragging him away from the water. His mission was breathing, but barely. The voice in his head was on repeat: _finish the mission_ , and the Winter Soldier reached for his gun, or a knife, or anything, but his eyes remained glued to Steve Rogers. His friend.

_Grey_

The Winter Soldier—no, _Sergeant James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes_ —watched the monochrome footage at the Smithsonian days after pulling Steve Rogers onto the shores of the Potomac. He stared at the film, looking at the young men who had gone off to war. They were the ‘greatest generation,’ the film said, and Bucky wanted to believe it as his eyes flicked across pictures of Rogers on a number of missions to destroy Hydra. But Bucky could only look blankly at the dark-haired man who was next to Rogers in every picture. He was young, but his eyes were haunted by the ghosts of war, of death. To Bucky it was like looking into a frame and not knowing if it contained a mirror or a painting.

_Red_

Rogers’s blood seeped through his uniform after the Winter Soldier shot him—not once, not twice, but again, and again. His mission. _His mission._ His hands closed around Rogers’s neck. He had to finish his mission. And then he was trapped, and even the Winter Soldier couldn’t escape from under the heavy beam. But with holes in his flesh, slowly oozing red, Steve Rogers freed him. The Winter Soldier was programmed to kill. He couldn’t let his mission away. His mission. His friend.

 The Winter Soldier’s eyes flew open. He was curled up on the dirty floor of an old, unoccupied apartment somewhere a few hours out of D.C., away from any known Hydra or S.H.I.E.L.D. bases. The darkness enveloped the empty room and he didn’t have to see his right hand as he extended it in front of his face to know that it was shaking. He sat up, back against the wall and knees pulled close to his chest. _Steve_. The Winter Soldier remembered the film and pictures at the museum, and he clung to the image of Steve his friend, not Steve his mission. He couldn’t remember anything other than what the Smithsonian had shown, but he knew he had to find Steve before Hydra found Bucky. Though the Winter Soldier couldn’t remember the young man in the pictures, he remembered the man in the blue suit who had refused to hurt Bucky on the helicarrier. “I’m with you ‘til the end of the line,” the Winter Soldier--no, _Bucky_ \--whispered to himself, his right hand carefully tracing his metal arm. The words seemed so familiar on his lips and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to remember, and slammed his left fist into the floor when he couldn’t. He sprang to his feet at the sound, hearing startled voices in the apartment below. Standing, he put a small knife in one pocket and a small gun in the other. Then, as the words _Sergeant James Barnes_ repeated in his mind, he slipped silently out the old window with a new mission in mind: find Steve Rogers.

 It wasn’t difficult for Bucky to find his way to the apartment where he knew Steve lived. Bucky didn’t remember being there before, but the building felt familiar somehow, and he wondered if he had been there before, back when Steve was his friend. Bucky knew S.H.I.E.L.D., or even Hydra, had the place wired—they wouldn’t possibly leave Steve unwatched—so he set about finding the cameras outside Steve’s door and reprogramming them in such a way that S.H.I.E.L.D. would not notice. He didn’t know what to do, but somehow his hands worked of their own accord, and soon enough he was standing outside the door to Steve’s apartment in darkness and silence. Knocking on the door, Bucky thought, would wake the others, so he soundlessly picked the lock and let himself in, closing the door quietly behind him.

 Bucky waited for the S.H.I.E.L.D agents to burst through the windows, but they did not come. Looking around, he was suddenly overwhelmed by the realization that he was in the apartment of the man he had been instructed to kill, and he panicked at the thought that he had failed his orders. He slid down until he was sitting with his back to the door. “‘Til the end of the line,” Bucky mouthed silently, knowing that he was safe from Hydra as long as he was in Steve’s apartment. In the darkness he could see the kitchen and a small living room, with two doors across from him. Bucky stood up and walked to the kitchen counter, where he removed his weapons from his pockets, and walked automatically across the room until he stood in front of the door he knew led to Steve’s bedroom. Behind the door, Bucky could hear faint noises, quiet mumblings that at once felt familiar, and something in his mind made him want to stop the noises.

“Bucky!”       

Bucky froze, Steve’s scream ringing in his ears and filling the apartment around him. Bucky knew the yell: he had heard it in his missions before. It was a cry meant to stop death, to delay the inevitable, and it never worked. Bucky remained motionless as he listened to Steve get out of bed. He heard a sink running and water splashing, then he heard Steve’s feet padding back towards the bed. Before Bucky could stop himself, he knocked softly on the door.

Silence. After what felt like minutes to Bucky, Steve asked quietly, “Who’s there?”

Bucky tried to speak, tried to say the words _Sergeant James Barnes_ , as he had practiced, but they would not come out.

“Who’s there?” Steve asked again. Bucky heard him picking something up—his shield, Bucky knew—and walk towards the door. Bucky could feel Steve hesitating on the other side of the door, though he knew they both were aware that the small piece of wood would be no protection to either of them.

Fear engulfed Bucky like the cold waters of the Potomac and he thought of running, but the door cracked open and his feet would not move. Bucky’s eyes, at the same time empty and full of fear, met Steve’s through the gap in the door.

“Steve,” Bucky croaked.

Though Steve raised his shield a little, the look of relief on the other man’s face sliced through Bucky like a sword. Here was the man he had tried to kill—his mission—looking almost thankful to see him.

“Bucky,” Steve said, his eyes taking in Bucky’s appearance. Bucky had ditched his Hydra-provided clothing for less suspicious jeans, a blue t-shirt and a hoodie. He looked dirtier than when they had met last on the helicarrier, and his long hair was tangled under the hood.  Steve looked for weapons hidden in Bucky’s clothing, and Bucky wordlessly answered Steve’s question with a quick glance to the kitchen counter.

“Jesus, Buck, you look like hell,” he said, opening the door the rest of the way and setting down his shield.

Bucky remained motionless, studying Steve’s movements carefully. Nothing about Steve said danger, and Bucky once again noticed that he was shaking, but this time in relief.

“Steve,” he said again, though it sounded like a question, and his voice was cracked and hoarse.

Steve moved forward and pulled Bucky into a hug, and though Bucky flinched violently, Steve did not let go, holding the dirty, shaking shell of his old friend. Bucky felt safe, but the Winter Soldier inside of him felt trapped. He suddenly wondered if Hydra had hired Steve to find him and return him to their clutches, and Bucky wriggled out of Steve’s grasp.

“Hydra,” Bucky rasped, looking toward the windows. Steve let him move away, but grabbed Bucky’s hand gently just before he moved entirely out of reach.

“Hydra is dead,” Steve said. “Or at least anyone high up enough to know about you is dead. You’re safe here.”

Bucky looked back at Steve, his gaze hardening, and for a moment Steve saw the Winter Soldier and let go of his hand.

“What about S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Bucky asked, slowly backing away.

“What’s left of S.H.I.E.L.D. is busy destroying what’s left of Hydra.” Bucky’s eyes softened a little. “You’re safe here,” Steve said. “I promise.”

“But I’m Hydra,” Bucky whispered.

Steve shook his head. “No. No you’re not. You’re my friend, and I promise I’ll protect you.”

For a moment, Bucky thought he could remember something from long ago. He could only remember the feelings, not where, or what, or when exactly, but he knew it had to do with Steve.

Steve looked Bucky in the eyes. “I’m with you…” he said, stopping when Bucky’s expression turned pained.

Bucky remembered the helicarrier. He remembered his mission. He remembered Steve saying that he was his friend. And he whispered, “‘til the end of the line.”

Steve’s face lit up with hope. “You remember?” he asked, putting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky focused on the weight of Steve’s hand where his metal arm met flesh and shook his head.

“The helicarrier,” Bucky said. “You said it on the helicarrier.”

Steve’s expression fell for a moment. “That’s okay,” he said. “What’s important is that you’re here now. I’ll help you.”

Bucky looked away, focusing on the early morning sky out the window. He knew Steve had to be his friend. Enemies didn’t act like that. Bucky hung his head and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself and stop his body’s shaking.

“Bucky?” Steve asked. Bucky didn’t respond, but Steve remained motionless, waiting for an answer.

Finally, Bucky lifted his head and looked at Steve. “I—I’m sorry. I’m sorry I tried to kill you. I don’t remember you—and I’m sorry for that, too. But I—I saw pictures. I—I trust you.”

Steve gave a small smile and gently put his arm around Bucky’s shoulders as he slid over to sit closer to him. “I’ll help you remember, Buck. I will.”

Bucky tried to give a small smile in thanks, but it came out as more of a pained frown. Bucky felt safe, though, with Steve’s arm wrapped around him, and he finally allowed himself to breathe deeply and close his eyes calmly.

“But really, Buck, you look like hell,” Steve said. “What do you say we get you cleaned up and in new clothes, huh?”

Bucky looked up at Steve and, after considering his words for a moment, nodded.

Steve led Bucky into the bathroom, turned the shower on, and grabbed a neatly folded towel from the cabinet. Bucky eyed the small shower suspiciously, and Steve noticed that his breathing had quickened.

“This all right, Buck?”

Bucky just stared at the shower in response. He remembered being taken in by Hydra after missions, being sat down and strapped into a chair and—

“Bucky?” Steve said, concern painting his expression. He turned the water off. “Bucky, you don’t have to get in there if you don’t want to.” Bucky nodded almost imperceptibly. “You could take a bath instead,” Steve suggested. Bucky didn’t argue, so Steve put the stopper in the drain and turned on the water to fill the tub, leaving the shower curtain open. “That better, Buck?”

Bucky looked at the tub and nodded.

“Okay,” Steve said. “Well, uh, I’ll let you get undressed and then I’ll be back with some clothes, okay?” He didn’t wait for an answer to leave the bathroom, though he left the door partially open so Bucky wouldn’t feel trapped.

Bucky looked in the mirror, not knowing whose eyes were looking back. “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes,” he said quietly, pulling the hood down from his head. “Bucky Barnes,” he muttered, unzipping the hoodie and letting it drop to the floor. “I am Bucky,” he said, pulling the t-shirt over his head. His eyes were drawn to his left arm and the red star of a reminder that he was not the young man Captain Rogers was friends with in the museum. “My name is Bucky Barnes,” he tried, but he knew Bucky Barnes was not who he saw in the mirror. He let his too-big jeans fall to the floor before lowering himself into the warm bathwater.

Steve looked through his drawers for clothes for Bucky, listening to what his friend was saying in the bathroom. Steve frowned when he happened to catch a shirtless Bucky’s reflection in the mirror. Bucky was more muscled than he had been during the war, but he looked as though he hadn’t eaten in weeks. _That’s probably because he hasn’t_ , Steve thought as he pulled out sweatpants, boxers, and a t-shirt for Bucky.

 The bath was warm, and Bucky realized just how tired his muscles actually were. The tub was larger than he thought it would be, though he realized it would have to be if Steve used it, and he let his body slide down until the water was up to his chin, covering his metal arm entirely. Steve knocked on the door, and Bucky opened his eyes, only realizing then that he had closed them. Steve came in with clothes folded in his arms.

“I think these will fit you,” he said, setting them on the counter. “Now, what do you say we wash your hair?”

Bucky gave him a skeptical look, but so far Steve had done nothing bad, so Bucky nodded. Steve grabbed the bottle of shampoo that was sitting on the shower shelf.

“Hope you don’t mind smelling like vanilla,” Steve said, chuckling. Bucky almost managed a smile in return. “Here, lean back and get your hair wet,” Steve said. Bucky did as he was told, and Steve squeezed shampoo into his palm. Bucky inhaled the vanilla scent, thinking that it reminded him of something, but he couldn’t remember what.

When Steve began to massage the shampoo through Bucky’s hair, he flinched at the initial contact, but quickly melted under Steve’s hands. Bucky’s entire body froze when he moaned quietly, and he quickly assessed Steve’s reaction, afraid he had acted out of order.

“It’s all right, Buck, you can relax,” Steve said reassuringly. “Just let me rinse your hair and then I can get some conditioner for the tangles.”

After Bucky’s hair had been rinsed, Steve took a bottle of conditioner from the cabinet. Steve massaged the conditioner into Bucky’s hair and began working to untangle the knots.

“Strawberry,” Bucky said, his eyes closed.

“You always liked strawberries,” Steve said quietly, hoping it wouldn’t upset Bucky.                  

Bucky inhaled again. “I think I still do,” he said.

Steve began to rinse Bucky’s hair. “I have some in the kitchen,” he said. “You can have them with breakfast.”

Bucky opened his eyes and with childlike concern asked, “Breakfast?”

“Of course,” Steve replied. “You really thought I’d let you go without eating? It’s probably been too long since you’ve had a proper meal. No way you’re skipping breakfast.” Bucky nodded. Then Steve opened a new bar of soap and handed it to Bucky.

“Here, you finish cleaning yourself up. I’m going to go start the coffee pot, and then we can get you dressed.” Steve stood up and left for the kitchen, leaving the bathroom door halfway open again.

Bucky ran the soap over his body and scrubbed away the dirt, saving his left arm for last. He looked at it disdainfully, trying to remember a time when it hadn’t been a part of him. Bucky could not remember that time. Steve came back just as Bucky was finishing and handed him a towel. When Bucky stood up to get out of the tub, Steve looked away, and all of his memories of teenage Bucky flooded his mind.

Steve remembered Bucky—tall, strong, and handsome—taking care of him when he was sick, beating up guys who Steve couldn’t beat alone, telling him about the girls he had kissed and the girls he planned to kiss. Steve had wanted to enlist to fight bullies, of course, and to protect his country and stand up for what it believed in. But a part of the reason for Steve’s numerous enlistment attempts was Bucky. He hadn’t wanted to leave Bucky.

“Steve?”

Steve looked back to Bucky, who was now fully dressed in grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt and holding the towel in his hand. He looked at Steve with a combination of caution and anticipation.

Steve smiled. “Breakfast? I have cereal, and eggs, and toast, and fruit, and…well, I could make pancakes, or waffles, or… whatever you want.”

Bucky’s head was spinning. “I, uh, anything.”

“Well, how about an omelet? You used to like those—maybe you still do, huh?” Steve thought he saw a flicker of hope in Bucky’s face, but it was gone immediately. Steve led Bucky through the bedroom and into the kitchen: the sun was starting to come up now, and Steve knew Sam would be coming by for their morning run soon. He pulled a chair out next to the table and motioned for Bucky to sit. Steve watched as his friend sat slowly, eyes never leaving the window.

“Here you go,” Steve said, handing Bucky a mug of coffee. I made it how you used to like it, but if you don’t like it anymore, I can make it differently, or I can make something else--”

“It’s good,” Bucky said, hiding the fact that he had just burned the tip of his tongue.

Steve smiled. “Good.” He pulled out a pan and started removing food from the refrigerator. He placed a bowl of strawberries in front of Bucky and, for the first time in seventy years, Bucky smiled.

The strawberries smelled like perfection to Bucky, and Steve could only smile as he watched Bucky bring the fruit gingerly to his mouth. Then, after sending a text to Sam saying, _Can’t run this morning, something came up. Everything’s okay. Sorry_ , Steve returned to making the omelets.

Bucky stared at the bowl, tasting the sweet fruit and remembering. He saw a young Steve—one hundred pounds at most—in bed, coughing, and covered with sweat as a result of the fever combined with the hot summer.

_Bucky sprang into the room. “Happy birthday, Steve!” his younger self shouted._

_Steve groaned at the noise—“not so loud, Buck”—but smiled at the arrival of his friend._

_“I brought you something,” Bucky said, grinning cheekily._

_“Bucky, you shouldn’t have. You ought to save the money you get,” Steve reprimanded him. But coming from the small, sickly Steve, Bucky wasn’t convinced._

_“It’s your birthday, I had to get you_ something _!” He handed the clumsily wrapped package to Steve, who unwrapped it with feeble fingers. Strawberries. “I just picked ‘em up today, so they ought to be fresh. I know you like ‘em, but I don’t know how anyone affords them regularly these days.”_

_“Bucky--” Steve wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t have, but the stupid grin on Bucky’s face stopped him. “Thank you.” Steve picked a strawberry and popped it into his mouth. “Want to share?” Bucky smiled even wider and picked up a strawberry._

Bucky stared at the bowl, unaware that warm tears were gently falling down his cheeks until he heard Steve.

“Bucky? Bucky, are you okay?” Steve had placed two omelets on the table and was now crouching down in front of Bucky, his hand on Bucky’s knee. “Bucky, what’s wrong?”

Bucky finally turned to look at Steve. “I remember.” Steve was silent. “I remember your birthday, that year when you were sick…”

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that, Buck. I was sick a lot,” Steve said, even though he knew exactly which birthday Bucky meant.

“Strawberries,” Bucky said quietly. “I brought you strawberries.”

Steve smiled. “Yeah, you did. I never stopped appreciating all the things you did for me, Buck.”

Bucky went back to being silent after that, eating his breakfast quickly and finishing off the bowl of strawberries. When Steve had finished with his own breakfast, he stood up.

“How about we brush your hair, huh? Get the rest of the tangles out?” Steve put the plates in the sink. “After that, I think we both ought to get some sleep.”

Bucky nodded, silently following Steve back into his bedroom. Steve had Bucky sit on the edge of his bed while he gently combed out Bucky’s hair. When Bucky yawned, Steve set the brush on the nightstand.

“You can sleep here,” he said. “I’ll take the couch.”

Bucky made a small noise to protest. “Hydra,” he mumbled drowsily. “Don’t go.”

Steve nodded and sat down next to Bucky in bed. Bucky curled up into a ball with his head facing Steve and was asleep almost instantly. Unable to sleep, Steve pulled out his sketchpad and a pencil and began to draw, inhaling the scent of vanilla and strawberries from Bucky’s hair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam accidentally helps Bucky remember, and Steve has to deal with the consequences. 
> 
> **Warnings: a bit of violence, Bucky feeling worthless, and Bucky remembering deaths, but nothing too strong yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to the wonderful Allyoop for editing this, and thanks to everyone who read the last chapter. Your feedback keeps me motivated!

 Steve was still sketching Bucky hours after his friend had fallen asleep next to him, curled into a small ball on the left side of the bed. He had been drawing all night and was nearly finished—all Steve had to do was shade his tousled hair and it would be complete—when Bucky started to whimper quietly. _Nightmares_ , Steve thought, recognizing the sounds as a pained expression crossed his friend’s face. Steve set his sketchpad on the nightstand beside him and reached out to put a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky was back at Hydra, strapped into a chair. _You failed your mission_ , a voice said, but Bucky couldn’t see where it was coming from. _There’s no Bucky here, only the Winter Soldier,_ it hissed. _We trusted the Winter Soldier to do his job, and you failed. Steve Rogers is still alive, and now you’re worthless to us. You’re a liability, and we can’t have liabilities walking around, can we?_

Steve’s hand had hardly touched Bucky’s shirt when Bucky bolted upright and was across the room almost instantly, his eyes filled with terror. He looked around, not recognizing the room as one of Hydra’s usual hideouts but not knowing where else it could be. His eyes focused vacantly on Steve, who was sitting motionless on the bed, pencil still in one hand.

“Bucky,” Steve said, concern heavy in his tired voice, but Bucky was already darting out the door.

_Mission_ , Bucky thought, remembering the gun and knife he had left on the kitchen counter. Steve was behind Bucky almost instantly, grabbing him around the waist and trying to pull him away from the weapons. Bucky’s hand snatched at the knife, but Steve pushed it away and pulled Bucky down, pinning him against the floor. _Fight_ , Bucky thought. _Finish the mission_. Sleep had slowed his reflexes—it was the first time he had _really_ slept in decades—but he managed to wrestle his left arm free of Steve’s grasp and bring his metal fist into contact with Steve’s jaw. Steve fell back, giving Bucky the opportunity to slip out of his grasp and reach for his weapons.

Steve’s vision slowly cleared after the punch and he watched as his friend picked up the gun, aiming the barrel at Steve’s head. He slowly crawled back towards his shield, which was still propped against the wall outside his bedroom from when Bucky had knocked on his door hours earlier.

“Bucky, _please_ , set the gun down,” he said, pulling his shield in front of him. “I won’t hurt you.” Steve felt optimistic for a moment as Bucky dropped the gun, but moments later Bucky reached for his knife and strode towards him. Steve could only see the Winter Soldier, but he knew Bucky Barnes was somewhere under those hollow, murderous eyes. “Bucky, stop.” But the Winter Soldier showed no signs of stopping. He reached for Steve with his metal arm, pushing him back against the wall and pressing the knife to his throat. Steve felt the sting of the blade and a trickle of blood slowly dripping from the cut. In an attempt to escape, he glanced towards the window, his eyes widening, and gasped. Bucky’s gaze followed his in panic to the window, and Steve used that distracted moment of weakness to hit Bucky over the head with his shield.

Bucky crumpled into a heap on the floor, and Steve looked in horror at what he’d done. He knew it hadn’t been enough to seriously hurt Bucky, but he _had_ hit his friend only moments after telling him that he _wouldn’t_. He felt nauseated, though he couldn’t tell if it was from hitting Bucky or being hit.

Bucky groaned on the floor, beginning to sit up slowly. “Steve?” he said, slowly realizing where he was and what he had done. He brought his hand to his head. The words _Sergeant James Barnes_ rushed into his mind, and for a second he was brought back to Brooklyn, pulling a small Steve Rogers away from a schoolyard bully. “Damn, you hit harder than I remember.”

Steve managed a small smile. “I’m sorry, Bucky—I had to,” he said, his eyes glancing at the knife still in Bucky’s hand.

Bucky’s eyes followed, and he dropped the knife quickly. He looked at the blood that was beginning to ooze from the bruise already forming on Steve’s jaw, then at the cut on Steve’s neck. Bucky used the arm of the couch to pull himself to his feet, his eyes never leaving his friend’s. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I—I thought I was at Hydra again.” He looked down at his feet, unable to stand Steve’s forgiving smile.

“It’s okay, Buck, we’ll figure this out. We’ll make you better.”

“ _Better_ ,” Bucky whispered, looking at his metal arm with disgust. “That’s what they said to me when…” His voice trailed off, but his eyes never left his arm. “I remember.”

Steve approached him slowly, his heartbeat still pounding in his head from Bucky’s attack. “When they made your arm?” Bucky nodded. “I promise you’ll never have to go back to them,” Steve said, gently setting his hand on Bucky’s arm. The metal was cool to the touch, but not uncomfortably so.  

Bucky flinched away, moving to sit on the couch. It wasn’t a violent movement, but rather one of revulsion. “Don’t touch me,” Bucky rasped. “It’s useless. _I’m_ useless. I’m a _liability_.” He kept his eyes away from Steve. Even though he couldn’t really remember being friends with him, he knew Steve well enough already to know that he would be upset from his words. Steve started to say something, but Bucky stopped him. “No. Don’t. I’ll never be like you,” Bucky said. “I’ll always be Hydra.” _But the soldier failed his mission_ , the voice in his head jeered, _not once, but twice now_. Bucky closed his eyes and pulled his knees into his chest. He heard Steve walk closer to him.

“Bucky, you are _not_ Hydra,” Steve said. “You were my friend long before Hydra. You saved me from being beaten into the ground so many times, and you helped me when I was sick. You were everything I had, Buck. _Everything_. I won’t let Hydra take that away from me.”

“But…Hydra,” Bucky protested, looking at his arm again. “What if they’re following me? What if you’re in danger too?”

Steve considered Bucky’s arm, running a light hand along the length of it. He gently pulled Bucky’s sleeve up a little, studying the red star on the cold metal. Bucky’s eyes never left him, thinking that Steve would pull away in disgust at any moment. But he didn’t.

“I have a friend who might be able to fix this,” Steve said after a long while. “He might be able to make you a new one, or at least make sure Hydra isn’t following you because of it.” He watched as the word played on Bucky’s lips.

“ _Friend_ ,” Bucky said quietly.

Steve nodded. “Tony Stark.”

_Stark._ Bucky inhaled deeply. He knew that name, but he couldn’t remember how, and he didn’t know why it made him sad. “Do I—did I-- know him?” he asked.

Steve shook his head. “No, but you will. You may have known his...” Steve paused, remembering what Zola had said in the bunker. _The Winter Soldier. Howard Stark._

“Steve? Who?” Bucky asked, his eyes hopeful.

“You saw his father at the Stark Expo in ’43…I don’t know if you remember him from that.”

Bucky shook his head, and Steve gave a relieved sigh.

“Now, I’m going to go get cleaned up,” Steve said. “I’ll put a movie on for you, if that would help you relax.”

“Movie?” Bucky asked, his head tilted slightly to the side.

“Pictures,” Steve replied. “I have one I think you might like. You can watch it while I go take a shower.” Steve left Bucky’s side and moved to the television, where he kneeled to put in a DVD. “It’s called Lilo and Stitch, and it takes place in Hawaii,” Steve said. Bucky watched him press buttons on the remote with wonder.

The picture came on the screen—animated and colorful—and Steve smiled when he saw that Bucky’s eyes were glued to the screen like a child. With that, Steve went into the bathroom to shower and clean up his cuts.

Bucky took in everything on the screen—the little girl, the trees, and the weird blue thing that he decided must have been some odd creation of the future—well, present. Entranced in the film, Bucky leapt across the couch and at the wall when a ringing suddenly filled the room. The noise was coming from the kitchen, he determined, as he huddled in the furthest corner of the room. The ringing continued, and though it wasn’t very loud, it drowned out the noise of the film in his ears. After what seemed like forever to Bucky, the noise stopped, but he was convinced it was Hydra. They had found him, and they would kill him. And then they would kill Steve, too, because the Winter Soldier had failed his mission. Bucky wanted to stand up, to find Steve and protect him, but he couldn’t move. He stayed huddled against the wall, paralyzed in fear, until Steve came into the living room ten minutes later.

Steve came out of his room, expecting to see Bucky on the couch, but instead found it empty and the cushions disturbed. “Bucky?” he looked around, his eyes finally settling on the shaking figure shrinking into the wall. “Bucky,” he said, approaching slowly so as not to startle him.

Bucky looked up. “They’re coming,” he said softly. “I heard them.”

“Hydra?” Steve asked, his eyes immediately scanning the room.

Bucky nodded. “The ringing. They know I’m here.”

“Ringing?” Steve asked. He continued to look around the apartment until his eyes landed on his phone, sitting innocently next to the coffee maker. He walked over and picked it up. _Missed call: Sam Wilson_. “Bucky,” Steve sighed, “it’s okay. It was just the telephone.” Bucky relaxed slightly. “A friend called.”

“Stark?” Bucky asked, surprising Steve. Bucky continued to quietly mouth the word ‘friend,’ trying its sound on his lips.

“No, a different friend. Sam Wilson,” Steve replied. “Actually, you probably remember him.” Bucky shook his head dejectedly, but Steve continued. “The man with the wings.”

Bucky uncurled from his position slightly. “I tried to hurt him,” he said, frowning. “I tried to hurt your friend.”

Steve offered his hand to his friend on the floor and pulled him up when Bucky accepted it. “No. _Hydra_ tried hurting him. But he’s fine. He didn’t get hurt. Now, I’m going to call him back. What do you say we watch the rest of the movie, huh?”

Bucky returned to watching the child and the blue creature on the screen, wondering how people could possibly make pictures like this. Meanwhile, Steve stood nearby in the kitchen as he spoke to Sam on the phone. Bucky only caught small bits of the conversation because for some damn reason the film was far more interesting than he wanted it to be.

“No, it’s fine, Sam—really, I’m okay,” Steve said. “He’s… well... better than the last time you saw him…No, he seems okay now…I don’t know—I just don’t know how much he can handle… He seemed fine last night, but now this morning…if he hadn’t still been tired, I don’t know what would have happened.”

Frowning, Bucky returned his full attention to the film. Soon enough, Steve came to sit next to him on the couch, draping his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. They watched in silence for a while, and Steve thought about how he could contact Tony without S.H.I.E.L.D. finding out. He couldn’t have anyone knowing about Bucky—not yet, anyways. He was still dangerous, and as long as he was dangerous he was a threat to S.H.I.E.L.D. Steve couldn’t bear the thought of Bucky constrained in an interrogation room, unable to answer the questions he was asked. Steve imagined Bucky’s body slowly filling with panic, asking—no, _begging_ —for Steve’s help. He wondered what Hydra had done to his friend, and how different it would be to what S.H.I.E.L.D. would do to him. After all, the Winter Soldier _had_ nearly killed Fury. Steve focused his attention on the real Bucky—the one sitting next to him, engrossed in a Disney film—and silently vowed to protect his friend.

“Sam will be here soon,” Steve said when the movie had finished.

Bucky’s eyes looked softer, but he looked again to his metal arm again, this time with disappointment. “Oh,” he muttered. “Your friend.”

“Yes, my friend,” Steve replied.

“I thought...I thought,” Bucky hesitated. “I thought _I_ was your friend.”

Steve’s heart ached. “Bucky, you _are_ my friend. You cared about me when no one else did. You helped me when no one else would. You will _always_ be my friend.”

Bucky frowned. “I tried to _kill_ you, Steve,” he said, his voice growing louder. “Is that what friends do? Is it? Do friends really try to _kill_ each other?” Bucky stopped, realizing what he had said and how loud he had become. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, looking at his arm with disgust again. It was the reason he was like this, he thought. The damned arm had turned him into a machine, and now he would never be able to go back to who he was before.

“Follow me,” Steve said, not waiting for Bucky as he turned to walk into his bedroom. Bucky followed him silently, his bare feet padding along the carpeted floor until he reached Steve’s dresser. Steve opened a drawer and pulled out a shirt—long sleeved this time—and stood up. They stood there silently for a moment, Steve unable to draw his eyes away from Bucky’s arm.  Finally, he looked Bucky in the eyes and, lightly fingering the hem of the t-shirt, asked, “May I?”

Bucky stared at him for a moment, completely motionless. He gave an almost imperceptible nod, and Steve lifted the shirt over Bucky’s head. Steve studied Bucky’s arm, paying special attention to where it was attached to Bucky’s shoulder. Steve couldn’t help but gaze at his torso—toned as it always had been. Bucky hadn’t needed super-soldier serum to look good, and Steve remembered admiring Bucky’s body when they were younger, when he thought Bucky didn’t know he was watching. Only once had his friend said anything about it. They had been in Bucky’s living room, and the insufferable summer heat had led Bucky to take off his shirt. When he had caught Steve looking, he laughed. “Go ahead,” he had said, stretching out on the couch. “ _Draw me_ ,” he teased, grinning and giving Steve a push on the shoulder. “Jerk,” Steve had said, but his cheeks were already blushing.

A knock at the door brought Steve out of his thoughts, and he saw Bucky looking towards the hall. “That’s Sam... It’ll be okay, Buck,” he said, trying to ignore the blush that was creeping into his cheeks as he pulled the new shirt over Bucky’s head and helped his arms through the sleeves. Then he grabbed Bucky’s hand gently, saying, “He won’t hurt you,” and led him slowly to the door. Bucky wanted to crawl behind the couch, but Steve insisted that he stand by his side. Steve opened the door, and Bucky peered out hesitantly at Sam from behind Steve. Sam smiled in response.

“Well,” Sam said to Bucky, “you clean up nicely.”

Steve opened the door the rest of the way and Bucky moved aside to let him in. Bucky evaluated Sam’s movements, noticing that Steve was completely relaxed around the other man. Sam handed a plastic bag to Steve, who thanked him.

“Hey Buck, I asked Sam to pick up some things for you,” Steve said, smiling. Bucky looked from Steve to Sam, who was also smiling, then back to Steve, who had set the bag on the kitchen counter and was pulling out containers of strawberries and blueberries, and a bushel of bananas. Bucky smiled in response. It was only a small smile, Steve noticed, but it gave him hope that the old Bucky could return. Then Steve pulled the last item out of the bag. He slipped one of the hair ties onto his wrist and stood behind Bucky, combing his hair out of his eyes with his fingers and gathering it into a ponytail before securing it with the band. A few short tendrils still framed Bucky’s face, and Steve could hear Sam chuckling behind them.

Bucky felt different. His hair no longer fell across his eyes, and with the addition of long sleeves, he no longer felt like the Winter Soldier. But he didn’t quite feel like Bucky Barnes either, because he didn’t know what that was supposed to feel like. How he ended up in Steve’s arms, hugging him tight enough to hurt a normal person, Bucky didn’t know, but he liked it. Steve held on to his friend, and Sam gave him a knowing smile over Bucky’s shoulders.

“I’m going to order food while you two hug it out, alright?” Sam walked to the drawer in Steve’s kitchen where he kept the takeout menus. “Pizza or Chinese?”

Bucky pulled away from Steve slowly, looking from Steve to Sam as though he were asking permission to speak. Steve, though confused, nodded. “Pizza,” Bucky said, though it sounded more like a question.

Sam laughed. “All right. Now let me guess, you eat just as much as super-soldier over here.” Bucky tilted his head in confusion, but Steve nodded. “Okay, what do you want on your pizza?” Sam asked Bucky.

Bucky looked to Steve. “Is—is pizza the same as it used to be?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, you used to like it. More toppings these days, and more popular, but still good.”

“I remember cheese,” Bucky said quietly. “But we didn’t have it often, did we?”

Steve shook his head. “There were a lot of things we didn’t have often, Buck. We couldn’t afford them.”

“But now? Now we—I mean, _you_ —can afford them?”

Steve put his hands on Bucky’s shoulder. “Yeah, Buck, don’t worry about it. A lot’s changed since we were kids in Brooklyn.”

Thirty minutes later, three large pizzas were balanced carefully on the coffee table while Sam, Steve, and Bucky sat circled around them. Bucky was cross-legged on the floor at Steve’s feet, while Sam sat in a chair with his back against one arm and his legs draped over the other. Bucky devoured his pizza, while Sam watched in amazement.

“Does he have super-soldier metabolism too?” Sam asked Steve jokingly.

Steve gave a sad smile. “I don’t know… I don’t know what they did to him.”

“Hey man, it’s all right,” Sam said. “We’ll get it all figured out.”

Bucky, who had just finished his pizza as Steve was starting on the second half of his, leaned against Steve’s leg and closed his eyes. He felt Steve’s fingers begin to massage his scalp. “That better not be your pizza hand,” he quipped, smiling when Steve and Sam began to laugh.

“Don’t worry, it’s not,” Steve replied. “You can sleep if you’re tired, but you might want to come up on the couch. It’s more comfortable.”

Bucky only paused for a moment before crawling onto the couch, his head in Steve’s lap, and falling asleep almost instantly.

“Damn,” Sam said. “Does he have an ‘off’ switch?”

Steve chucked. “He’s exhausted. Who knows how long he would have slept this morning if the nightmare hadn’t woken him up.” He continued to run his hand through Bucky’s hair, eventually working the elastic off and putting it around his wrist.

“Well, I don’t know what I was expecting,” Sam said, “but he’s definitely calmer than I thought he would be. He’s like a damn puppy in your lap.”

Steve smiled in response. “It’s good to have him back. I just hope Stark can help with his arm. ”

Sam smiled briefly. “I’m sure he’ll be able to figure something out. He just finished making me new wings. I can call him for you later tonight--I don’t think S.H.I.E.L.D. keeps as close an eye on me as they do you.” Steve looked optimistic, but Sam’s expression grew serious. “But Steve, you have to realize that Bucky will _never_ be the same as he used to be.  If he gets his pre-Hydra memory back, chances are he’ll get his Hydra memory back, too. With the things he’s seen and done, he’s never going to be the Bucky you knew. Hell, you were never the same after the things you saw in the Second World War, right?”

Steve nodded. “I know, but he’s my _friend_. I have to help him.”

“I know—it’s obvious by how you’re taking care of him,” Sam said, motioning to Bucky’s sleeping form that was currently occupying Steve’s lap. “I just want to make sure you’re careful. I don’t want there to be a repeat of this morning, especially if he wins the next time.”

“I’ll be careful,” Steve replied, looking down at Bucky.

“Howard Stark probably thought that, too,” Sam said. Steve gave him a questioning glance. “Natasha told me,” Sam answered.

Bucky’s eyes were closed, but he could hear voices. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep, but he immediately recognized Steve’s voice, as well as Steve’s hands running through his hair. It took him a few moments to remember the other voice as Sam’s. He was about to open his eyes when Sam said something that caught his attention: _Stark_.

“That wasn’t him,” Steve argued. “It was the Winter Soldier. It _wasn’t_ Bucky.”

“All I’m saying,” Sam said, “is that if the puppy dog on your lap could kill Howard Stark, he could kill you too. Just be careful.”

There was a pause. Bucky froze, fearing that Steve would hear his heart beating out of his chest. Stark. He had killed Stark. Tears welled in his eyes as the memories returned to him--images of the Starks clipped to Hydra files and the instructions _it must look like an accident_ \--and Bucky couldn’t stop the tears from falling down his cheeks. He remembered seeing Stark on stage with a flying car, and he remembered being absolutely amazed. Then he remembered Stark and his wife, and he remembered what the Winter Soldier had done to them.

“I’ll check in tomorrow morning,” Bucky heard Sam say. “Let me know if you need anything.” Bucky listened to Sam leave the apartment, and he stayed perfectly still. He tried to be as quiet as he could, but he accidentally gave a small sniff as he worked to keep the tears back. Steve’s hand stopped in his hair.

“Bucky?”

Bucky stiffened immediately and shut his eyes tighter.

“ _Bucky_?” Steve’s voice was urgent, and he put a comforting hand on Bucky’s back.

Images of Howard and Maria Stark’s final moments flooded into Bucky’s memory and he couldn’t hold back the tears. He rolled over and curled tighter into Steve’s lap, sobbing into his shirt, his whole body shaking under the realization of what he had done. He tried to apologize to Steve, but he couldn’t speak, gasping for breath between sobs. Steve remained quiet, rubbing small, comforting circles on Bucky’s back. Bucky’s right hand curled into a fist around the fabric of Steve’s shirt and refused to let go. They stayed like that for hours until Bucky’s guilty sobs exhausted him and gave way to haunted whimpers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Sam seek Tony's help, but Bucky's overwhelming guilt makes getting him anywhere near Tony rather difficult. Some fluff, some angst.

Steve woke up on the couch with Bucky’s head cradled in his lap. Judging by the light spilling into the living room, it was already mid-morning. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept this long, his slumber uninterrupted by the nightmare of losing Bucky on the train in the Alps. Recently, his nightmares had expanded to include facing the Winter Soldier on the helicarrier, but neither nightmare had plagued him that night with Bucky curled up against him.

“You’re awake,” Bucky said, unmoving. 

Steve smiled, running his hand through Bucky’s hair. “Yeah. Did you sleep well?”

Bucky hummed something akin to ‘yes,’ and sat up to face Steve. His eyes were still red and swollen from his painful flashback. He was worried that his actions as the Winter Soldier had killed any chance he had to make friends with the only man Steve thought capable of fixing his arm. Despite that, he looked slightly better: he was clearly relaxed, and his eyes weren’t haunted with memories of what he had done or what had been done to him. Bucky’s hair fell across his face, and without thinking Steve gently brushed it behind his ears. Steve blushed as Bucky gave him a curious look, but it soon turned into a smile.

“Breakfast?” Steve said, standing up and stretching.

Bucky nodded. “Your telephone made a noise earlier,” he said. “But it was only a little noise. No ringing.”

Steve checked, finding a text from Sam. Stark says he’ll help. He’s sending a plane for us. We leave at noon. I’ll be over at 10.30. Steve looked at the clock: it was already nine. “Hey Buck, Tony said he’ll look at your arm and try to figure something out. We need to leave in two hours.” Steve could tell that Bucky immediately remembered Tony and how the Winter Soldier had killed his parents, but Bucky’s only reaction was a frown. “How about smoothies for breakfast? Tony showed me how to make them a while ago. They’ve got fruit in them—you’ll like them.”

Bucky nodded, following Steve into the kitchen and eyeing the hairbands that were still on the counter. He picked one up, gathering his hair in his right hand and using the left to secure the band. Steve smiled, and Bucky smiled in return. “I like them,” Bucky said. “My hair’s too long.” 

“It’s not so bad,” Steve said automatically, putting the strawberries and blueberries into the blender.

Bucky approached him. “You like it?” he asked, as if he couldn’t understand how Steve could like anything that reminded him of the Winter Soldier.

“Well, I mean, it doesn’t matter to me what you do with your hair,” Steve said. “It’s your choice.” Now was definitely not the time to tell Bucky that he actually found it cute. “Now, the blender’s going to be kind of loud, but it will be over soon.”

Bucky nodded in understanding, but he flinched anyways when Steve turned the blender on. When it was over, he eyed the mixture as Steve poured it into two cups. Bucky took a cautious sip before gulping the rest of the smoothie down quickly and smiling. He moved closer to the blender to examine it.

“Careful,” Steve cautioned. “It’s sharp.”

Bucky moved his hand away, but he continued to look at the device with curiosity. “Can I try?” he asked.

“Sure, I guess,” Steve said. He certainly wasn’t going to complain about a bigger breakfast, so he watched as Bucky peeled bananas and put more strawberries into the blender. Steve retrieved ice and milk and let Bucky add them. His friend didn’t flinch as he blended the ingredients, and Bucky grinned as he poured the mixture into cups.

Steve smiled, accepting the cup from Bucky and downing its contents quickly. “I’m going to go shower, and then you can take a bath. Sam will be here in an hour.” Bucky simply nodded, returning his attention to the smoothies, and Steve walked back to his bedroom. He picked out clothes for himself, as well as clothes he thought Bucky would like, though he thought he would have to find Bucky his own clothes soon. He showered quickly, hoping that Bucky wouldn’t be afraid of being alone in the kitchen. When he returned to the kitchen, he found that Bucky certainly hadn’t been afraid. Nearly all of Steve’s cups and mugs littered the kitchen counter, each filled with smoothies of different colors.

“Uh, Buck?”

Bucky grinned as he rinsed off the blender in the sink. “I made all kinds,” he said proudly. “There are three of each, so Sam can have some when he gets here.” Bucky dried the blender with a towel. “There’s blueberry-banana, strawberry-banana, plain blueberry, plain strawberry, plain banana—oh, and I found ‘chocolate syrup’ in your refrigerator, so I put some of that in with some bananas, and--" 

“Buck,” Steve said, trying not to laugh at the scene before him as Bucky spewed more words than he had said all of yesterday combined. “That’s great. Sam will appreciate it, too. But let’s go get you cleaned up, okay?”

Bucky followed Steve like a child to the bathroom, where a tub full of warm water was already waiting. Bucky didn’t wait to take off his clothes, so when Steve turned around from grabbing a towel out of the cabinet he found himself face to face with a completely naked Bucky. “Can I get in now?” he asked.

Steve’s face went red as he nodded, trying not to stare at the gentle curve of Bucky’s backside as he stepped into the tub. They had seen each other naked often enough--nothing was ever really private in war--but that was nearly seventy years ago. Steve didn’t know if it was simply the amount of time that had passed or something else at work, but he made sure to add plenty of bubbles to the bath in order to obscure any attention-grabbing parts as he washed and conditioned Bucky’s hair.

Bucky gave a disappointed sigh when they had to drain the bath, and he noticed that Steve tried to avoid looking at him as he stepped out of the tub and toweled himself dry. Bucky frowned, wondering if the sight of his arm was really that off-putting to his friend. After he was dry, he followed Steve to the bed, where clothes were already laid out for him.

“I, uh, I hope you don’t mind wearing these,” Steve stammered, reminding Bucky of the small Steve back in Brooklyn. “I think you’d like modern clothes more than I do—Sam says I dress like an old man.”

Bucky smiled, looking at the white t-shirt, blue sweatshirt, and jeans. “Thank you,” he said, feeling the soft material of the sweatshirt. He turned and pulled Steve into a hug, resting his head on his friend’s shoulder, his wet hair dripping onto Steve’s shirt. “Thank you so much.” He felt Steve’s body tense, and he pulled away. “I—I’m sorry.”

“No, Buck, it’s fine,” Steve said, unable to stop thinking about the too-small towel wrapped around Bucky’s waist. “Let’s just wait ‘til you’re in dry clothes, huh?" 

Bucky simply nodded and began to dress while Steve began packing a small suitcase with more clothes, not knowing how long they would be at Tony’s. When Bucky was ready, they went back into the living room just in time for Steve to let Sam in the door.

“Bucky made you some things,” Steve said with a wry smile, gesturing to the counter.

Sam’s eyes lit up. “Second breakfast! All right!” he exclaimed, letting Bucky show him which of the smoothies were his. Steve smiled at Bucky’s childish excitement as he gazed out the window, waiting for the car that would pick them up and take them to Stark’s plane. Sam complained about not being able to physically drink all the smoothies, mumbling something about those damn super-soldiers, which made Bucky almost chuckle. When the car arrived, Steve and Bucky followed Sam outside, leaving the dirty dishes and Bucky’s good mood inside. The car ride was mostly quiet, with Bucky asking a few short questions every so often about where they were going.

“New York City,” Steve replied. “Yes, you’ve been there before. I don’t know if you remember.”

Bucky shook his head and Steve tried to conceal his frown. They boarded Tony’s jet, and Steve had to keep himself from falling asleep almost immediately. He had slept well enough on the couch with Bucky’s head cradled on his lap, but there was something hypnotizing about the drone of the aircraft’s engine that made his eyes close of their own accord. Bucky noticed, and hesitantly put his hand on Steve’s arm. “You should sleep,” he said.

Steve smiled, but shook his head. “Nah, Buck. I can stay up.” He thought if anyone should be sleeping it would be Bucky, considering the emotional rollercoaster his friend had been through in the past day and a half.

“We all know that’s a lie,” Sam interjected. “You sleep. I can entertain him for a bit.” Bucky nodded in agreement, so Steve reluctantly closed his eyes. Within minutes, he was sleeping.

Bucky stared at Steve for a long while, trying to access more of the memories he knew were behind the pleasant feelings he had around Steve. He had been watching Steve interact with Sam, and wondered if perhaps he and Steve had once been like that. He wanted to believe that what he had had with Steve was better, and he wondered if he would ever be able to remember.

“You okay?” Sam asked. 

Bucky nodded, mouthing the word ‘yes,’ but no noise came out. They sat in silence, and Bucky caught Sam off guard when he spoke. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Sam raised his eyebrows curiously. “No. Why?”

Bucky shrugged. “You’re his friend,” he said, gesturing to Steve, “ but I don’t know anything about you.” He noticed that Sam’s expression was now gloomier than it had been just moments before, and he apologized. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t want to upset you.”

Sam gave a sad smile. “It’s okay—you didn’t do anything. I was just…”

“Remembering?” Bucky offered.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Not all remembering’s good, huh?” Bucky shook his head in response. “I guess you wanna know?”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “I don’t... I didn’t mean…”

“Oh shut it,” Sam l, trying to make sure Bucky knew he wasn’t mad. “When I was in the Air Force, I had a friend named Riley. He was my best friend—we did all kinds of missions together. But he was… he was killed in action.”

“Oh,” Bucky murmured. “I’m sorry.” He squirmed under the awkward silence, his eyes never leaving Steve, until finally a look of realization crossed his face. “Did you love him?”

Sam looked at Bucky grimly until Bucky no longer thought Sam would answer the question. “Yes,” Sam said finally. “He was my best friend. We went through hell together. He was all I had on more than one occasion, and I owe him my life.”

“Oh,” Bucky said. “But not like…”

“Romantically?” Sam offered. Bucky nodded, and Sam shook his head in response. “Any feelings beyond friendship we could have had were hidden under lock and key. It’s too dangerous to love like that in situations where either one of you could die any day… and he did.”

Bucky frowned. “But it’s not allowed anyways.”

Sam actually chuckled at that. “Welcome to the twenty-first century, old man,” he said. “Society doesn’t really care who you’re with. I mean, yeah, there are some ass holes, but whatever.” Sam watched Bucky furrow his eyebrows, his gaze still on Steve. “Okay, you’ve got questions.”

Bucky’s eyes never left Steve, who was sleeping peacefully with his head slightly tilted towards Bucky. “Did Steve ever say anything about us?” Bucky asked. “Back when we were kids? I want to remember, but I can’t.”

Sam smiled. “He told me some things about you. He said you were always popular with everyone—especially the girls, and that you always stood up for him, and that you followed him into battle, no questions asked.”

Bucky’s eyes finally left Steve to gaze out the window. “I feel like I know him, yet I hardly remember anything. I just remember feelings sometimes—I remember the feelings before the actual moments—and I remember being happy with Steve,” Bucky said. “He made me happy.”

“Do you remember anything else that made you happy?” Sam asked.

Bucky shook his head. “Spending time with Steve.”

“Do you remember if you had a girlfriend?” Sam asked.

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think I did… I think I remember kissing enough of them,” he said dryly, “but having a girlfriend would have meant spending less time with him.”

“Well, at least some memories are coming back,” Sam said, trying to cheer him up.

Bucky just shrugged. “But I don’t know if… if we… if Steve… I mean, why would he be taking care of me now? Why wouldn’t he turn me in? He wouldn’t do that unless he…”

“Loved you?” Bucky nodded in response. “I can tell you right now,” Sam said, “that you meant—and mean—everything to him. I don’t know how close exactly you two were, but I do know that he’s not the kind of person to turn in his friends.”

Bucky simply gazed at Steve for the remainder of the flight, trying to find any memories that would give him answers. Steve woke up as the plane landed, and the look on Bucky’s face told him that something wasn’t quite right. He looked to Sam for answers, and Sam mouthed ‘later.' 

When they got into the car to be taken to Stark Tower, Steve saw that Bucky had grown rigid and wrapped his arms tightly around his body. Steve, who was sitting next to him, wrapped his own arms over his friend’s shoulder and murmured, “What’s wrong, Buck?”

Bucky turned his head to face Steve with fearful eyes and an expression filled with dread. “Stark,” he whispered, burying his head in Steve’s shoulder. Bucky couldn’t face Tony, not with the knowledge of what he had done to the man’s parents, and he especially couldn’t ask him to fix his arm. “I can’t,” Bucky said, shaking. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

“Shhhh, Bucky, it’ll be okay,” Steve said, running a calming hand through Bucky’s hair. Bucky didn’t relax though, and he remained a shivering puddle in Steve’s lap the whole way to Stark Tower.

Tony Stark was not exactly looking forward to meeting Bucky Barnes, especially after learning from the newly released documents that the Winter Soldier had been responsible for his parents’ deaths. As a matter of fact, he was absolutely dreading the meeting with Steve’s “friend,” and all morning he had enjoyed fantasies of meeting Bucky Barnes’s jaw with his fist, regardless of what the Star Spangled Pain in the Ass had to say about it. He had even decided to go meet the car himself in the garage in the basement, only letting Steve’s new toy into the building when he had ensured the geriatric assassin knew who was boss. When the car pulled up, Tony watched with calculating eyes as Sam hopped out of the front passenger seat and walked over to greet him. Tony simply nodded and strode towards the rear door, intent on kicking ass until the old Howling Commando actually howled. But when he flung the door open, his morning’s plans were crushed. There, sitting on Steve’s lap and shaking like a child, his long hair covering his face, was the Hydra-trained assassin, whose hoarse voice was muttering, “I can’t” over and over until Tony wondered how long he had been repeating the mantra.

“Tony,” Steve said, nodding.

Tony simply stood there with no idea what to do. “I, uh… okay… yeah, well, uh… come in,” he managed, stepping aside to let the two men out of the car.

Bucky couldn’t stop the shaking no matter how hard he tried. He heard Steve’s voice saying, “C’mon, Buck, it’s time to go,” but it sounded far away, like the sixteen-year-old Steve telling him that it was time to go to school seventy years ago. “Bucky, come on,” Steve’s voice echoed, bouncing off of centuries of memories he had yet to claim. And then he started sobbing. Bucky’s shoulders heaved and he struggled to breathe, finally managing to squeak out an “I’m sorry” once he caught his breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whimpered, his face still buried in Steve’s lap.

Steve looked from Tony to Sam, then back to Bucky. It killed him to know that Bucky could understand that he had technically killed Tony’s parents, yet couldn’t realize that it was only because of Hydra’s brainwashing. “Bucky, please,” Steve pleaded. “We have to go inside. It will be okay, I promise.” Steve looked to Sam for help and wriggled out from under Bucky. He then reached back into the car and very awkwardly pulled Bucky out and picked him up, carrying him over his shoulder like a fireman. Sam grabbed Bucky’s hand comfortingly, but Bucky quickly pulled it away and wriggled to get out of Steve’s grasp.

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Tony finally asked, entirely unsure of what he was watching.

“Is he going to run?” Sam asked.

Steve wanted to shake his head, wanted to say no, but he had no idea. He put Bucky down gently and shrugged helplessly, keeping a firm grip on his friend. Sam moved slightly closer to Bucky’s other side in an attempt to be close enough to stop the trained assassin from escaping, but he knew it was probably useless. Bucky clung to Steve’s side, but Steve could see the fight or flight response working behind his eyes.

“Bucky, please,” Steve said. “Please don’t run. We’re going to help you. Tony’s going to help you.”

With mention of Tony, Bucky froze and looked at the man who was standing and watching, completely dumbfounded. “I… I’m sorry,” Bucky stammered, pleading for forgiveness.

Tony moved slightly closer, wanting to tell Bucky that it was okay, that he wasn’t really that mad, when Bucky sprang away. Steve yelped as his friend escaped his grasp, and Sam pounced in time to grab Bucky’s leg and trip him up. Steve jumped onto Bucky as he fell to the ground, trying to hold him down without hurting him. Bucky thrashed under him, growling as he tried to flee, but his left arm was trapped awkwardly under his body and Sam still had a hold on his legs. Steve held himself over Bucky like a shield, cringing as he remembered all of the times Bucky had picked him up off the ground in a dirty alley. This is how you treat your friends? he thought. This is how you treat the one person who means everything in the world to you? Bucky struggled against their grasp for what felt like minutes, with Steve imploring him to calm down until his own voice was hoarser than Bucky’s. Finally, exhausted, Bucky went limp. He curled up into the fetal position with Steve and half of Sam still on top of him and began to sob, choking on his breath.

If Tony had felt awkward before, it was nothing to what he was feeling now as he watched Sam and Steve both groan in pain as they stood up, with Bucky lying destitute on the floor, exhausted physically and emotionally. Steve looked apologetically at Tony, who looked at the whimpering Bucky with a look that said, ‘what now?’

Steve kneeled, putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Bucky, I’m going to pick you up now, okay?” Bucky’s eyes were empty and he gave no response. Steve picked him up as gently as he could, cradling his friend in his arms, trying to find a remainder of his friend in the empty shell he carried. Sam looked on sympathetically and grabbed their bags, while Tony led them all to the elevator. Had Bucky been any better, Steve knew the small elevator space would have scared him, but he didn’t think Bucky was even aware of his surroundings.

“I had originally thought that we should go to the lab first,” Tony said cautiously, not wanting to disturb Bucky, “just so I can see what we’re working with and if Hydra has any trackers in the arm, but uh…” He gestured to the contents of Steve’s arms. “It’s your call.”

Steve considered the choice carefully. He didn’t know how long Bucky would remain comatose, but he certainly didn’t want his friend waking up in a lab setting that even remotely reminded him of Hydra. “How long will it take to check for trackers?”

Tony shrugged. “It won’t take long to find them, but if there are any, we need to get them out as soon as possible. I don’t want Hydra targeting my tower.”

Steve looked to Sam, who frowned sympathetically but offered no advice. Steve sighed. “Let’s go to the lab,” he said finally, already regretting the decision and pulling Bucky closer in apology. Tony nodded and pressed another button on the elevator, and the doors to the lab opened.

Steve carried Bucky cautiously to the couch in the corner of the room and gently set Bucky down on it. He carefully covered him with a nearby blanket and looked to Tony.

“If he goes into shock and dies on my couch, you’re in trouble,” Tony said, and Steve watched curiously as he turned on different devices. “Jarvis, warn me before robot boy dies.”

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis replied.

“Hey Rogers, how much super-soldier is Bucky?” Tony asked a few moments later.

Steve shook his head. “I don’t know how similar Zola’s formula was to Erskine’s, but it had to have had some similarities if he survived the fall.”

Tony frowned. “Is he more or less super-soldier than you?”

“Physically less, I think, not counting the arm,” Steve replied.

Tony sighed dramatically. “Well then, sorry about this, Cap,” he said, his voice filled with false cheer as he jabbed a needle into Steve’s shoulder.

Steve was able to get out a ‘Tony, what the--’ before dozing off, with Sam and Tony catching him as he fell and pulling his body onto the couch.

“Perfect,” Tony said, grabbing another needle. He looked at Bucky, who was frozen on the couch, his hair half covering his wide-open, fearful eyes. “Hey there Bucky,” Tony said awkwardly, approaching slowly. “Uh, this is going to hurt a bit, but remember that I’m here to help you escape Hydra, and I can’t do that if you kill me. So please don’t kill me.” He put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Um, could you sit up?”

“What did you do to him?” Bucky rasped, unmoving.

“Steve?” Tony asked. “I had to make sure that the anesthetic I’m about to give you would work and… well… it does. Ta da! He’s fine. He’ll wake up in a few minutes.”

Bucky slowly sat up, eyeing Tony apprehensively. “Not until he wakes up,” Bucky said, swallowing nervously. “Please.”

Tony rolled his eyes and set the needle on the table. “It’s a good thing I gave him a small dose…”

Bucky’s eyes darted from Tony to Steve and back until Steve woke up five minutes later. Tony was showing Sam some of the technology he had designed the night before after Sam had called. 

Steve slowly stood up and moved closer to Bucky. “I’m so sorry about earlier,” he said. “But I couldn’t let you run. Not when Tony can help.”

Bucky was about to respond when Tony chimed, “Oh good, Capsicle’s awake. I thought we’d have to wait another seventy years…”

“What did you do?” Steve asked, angry at himself and Tony for causing Bucky pain.  

“I had to test the meds on you before I gave them to Bucky because I didn’t want to have to jab him twice,” Tony responded. “But he wanted to wait until you woke up.”

Steve nodded and looked at Bucky. “Are you sure you’re okay with this, Buck?” 

Seeing that Steve was fine, Bucky nodded slowly in reply and whispered, “Please don’t leave me.” Steve slowly unzipped Bucky’s hoodie to give Tony access to his arm and reached for his friend’s hand, holding it in his own as Tony approached again.

“Alright, so you’re going to sleep a bit now,” Tony said. “But it won’t be anything like Hydra—I promise—and you’ll keep all of your memories. It will just make it easier for me to figure out your arm, okay?” 

Bucky gave a curt nod, and for a moment Steve saw the emotionless assassin’s blank stare before Bucky curled closer to him. Just as Tony was about to stick the needle into the other man’s arm, Bucky muttered, “I’m sorry about your parents.”

Tony froze for a moment, seeing the tears in the corners of Bucky’s eyes. “It wasn’t your fault,” Tony said, “but if it helps, I forgive you.” He then jabbed the needle into Bucky’s shoulder, but the action was nowhere near as satisfying as he had hoped it would be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newly edited by the lovely Allyoop. As always, feedback is much appreciated :)

Steve watched helplessly as Tony examined the arm. He held Bucky’s limp right hand close as hologram graphs and blueprints of the metal arm appeared at Tony’s fingerprints. Every so often, Tony would frown, mumble some obscenity about Hydra, and continue working. Though it only took a few minutes, Steve felt like he had been waiting for hours, and he was thankful for Sam’s presence next to him.

“He’ll be okay,” Sam said. “He seemed to be doing well this morning. Maybe it’ll get easier each day.”

Steve glanced at Sam. “You’ve been in war,” he said, “so you know that’s not true.”

Sam shrugged in reply. “It’s different for each person, though. Bucky could surprise us.”

Steve frowned. “What were you two talking about on the plane?” he asked.

Sam shook his head. “I’ll tell you later, once we understand what we’re dealing with in his arm. Just know that if he’s strong enough to get this far, he’ll survive Tony’s curiosity.”

“I’m the last thing he’s got to worry about,” Tony said, pulling up a large map of Bucky’s arm. “The three little red dots show the three big problems. The first,” he said, pointing to a spot near Bucky’s hand, “is… well… it’s a sensor that can send an electrical shock throughout the arm and into the shoulder where he has pain receptors.” He went on, explaining the the science behind it, but Steve didn’t care about what else Tony had to say—all that mattered to him was that Hydra could use the sensor to cause Bucky pain.

“We’ve got to take it out,” Steve said.

“Hold up,” Tony replied. “There’s more. See this red dot near the elbow? Yeah, well that kind of looks like a small bomb to me. I mean, I’m no expert on weapons, but if I were…”

Steve scowled and Sam rolled his eyes in response to Tony’s sarcasm. “What the hell would they need a bomb for?” Sam asked.

“Probably to make sure they had a backup plan if he remembered who he was and tried to fight Hydra,” Tony said.

“So they would just blow him up if he went against orders?” Sam asked, nearly as angry as Steve.

“Not if the Winter Soldier was as important to them as we think he was,” Tony replied. “But a little added security doesn’t hurt… well, in Bucky’s case it does, but…”

“It's his cyanide pill,” Steve interjected. “But this one isn’t voluntary.”

Tony and Sam looked at him solemnly, and Tony finally understood the severity of the situation. Bucky wasn’t just Steve’s lap dog, he was a World War II veteran who had risked everything for Steve. Following Captain America into battle had cost Bucky his life, but not in the way he would have expected.

“And the last spot?” Steve asked, hoping Tony might be saving the best news for last.

Tony pointed to the spot near Bucky’s shoulder. “That one is going to be the hardest to remove, simply because of the proximity to his actual shoulder.”

“But what _is_ it?” Steve begged.

Tony sighed. “A tracker. It’s active.” He took a deep breath. “And it’s linked to the explosives.”

Sam looked at Steve, who couldn’t take his eyes off of his unconscious friend. All Steve could do was imagine young Bucky back in Brooklyn, smiling and laughing as he picked Steve up off ground in an alley and dusted off his clothes. Steve then saw his mental image exploding, and somewhere in the distance he could hear the flames consuming Bucky’s cries for help. “Please tell me you can fix this,” he said quietly.

Tony’s face was grim, but he nodded. “I do think there’s a way to disable the tracker without setting off the bomb, but I’m going to have to take the arm off. It’s too close to his body for me to actually be able to get those things out without blowing him—and me—into pieces.”

The small spark of hope in Steve’s expression disappeared instantly. “Absolutely not. You can’t take his arm off. And even if you did, wouldn’t taking the arm off trigger the bomb?”

Tony shook his head. “No. I think I can find a way around Hydra’s setup.”

“Why can’t we just ditch the whole arm?” Sam asked. “Build him a new one?”

“He _needs_ it,” Steve replied. “Imagine what it felt like the first time he woke up with _no_ arm, and the next time with a _metal_ arm. I won’t subject him to waking up again with the metal arm gone.”

“Steve, I know you don’t want Tony to take it off, but it might be the only thing he can do right now,” Sam said. “As long as his arm is on, the tracker is working. Hydra could know our exact location right now. The longer the arm is on, the more danger we’re in.”

Steve looked from Sam to Tony. “Do you think it would hurt him to take it off?” he asked. “I mean, I’m sure it hurt when it was attached, but how is it connected? And if Hydra does come, can you put his arm back on quickly enough for him to get out of here? It’s the only way he can protect himself from them.”

Tony sighed. “If Hydra hasn’t attacked you yet, maybe they won’t attack us in the next half hour. Look, Steve, it needs to come off for me to make it safe. I’ll make it as quick and painless as I can.”

Something in Tony’s expression told Steve that he was completely serious for once. He wasn’t talking to the man who had poked Banner’s side with a pen for fun. He was talking to the man who had looked at the odds of surviving a trip through the portal above New York with a nuclear bomb and done it anyway, protecting the city from those who had sworn to protect it.

Sam put his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Right now, it’s the only option we’ve got.”

Steve closed his eyes and imagined how much pain he had already caused Bucky that day, when he had promised to keep him safe and comfortable. He remembered Bucky smiling as he bounced into the small apartment they shared in Brooklyn more than seventy years ago, stumbling drunkenly into their only bedroom and falling into his small bed across the room from Steve’s. Steve remembered watching from his own bed, pretending to be asleep. He hadn’t wanted Bucky to know that he had stayed up waiting for him, ready to help him if he came home too drunk to function. He felt like that again, but now Bucky needed help and Steve could do nothing but watch as Tony made plans to remove the metal arm.

“I was thinking we should move him to a chair,” Tony said, but as he looked at the way Steve hugged Bucky’s side, he said, “but I can do it from here.”

Steve nodded, watching as Tony began to work on removing the arm. Tony used the tools himself, Steve noticed, rather than having Jarvis or Dum-E do the work. Tony was more focused than Steve had ever seen him, so he kept quiet and returned his attention to his friend.

Bucky’s face twisted in pain and he whimpered quietly, but he didn’t wake up. Steve gently ran a hand through Bucky’s hair, brushing a few strands away from his face. He turned his head to check Tony’s progress and had to hold back a groan. His eyes met with what remained of Bucky’s actual arm, amputated just a couple inches below the shoulder. The skin was an angry red—irritated from the metal arm’s removal—and Steve was reminded that this never would have happened if he had saved Bucky from falling off the train in the Alps so many years ago. He didn’t realize he had a tear falling down his cheek until Tony abruptly stood up and took the arm to his desk. Sam handed Steve a blanket, which he used to wrap Bucky in. Steve positioned himself to be sitting behind Bucky with his arms wrapped tightly around his friend’s limp body in front of him. He gently rested his chin on Bucky’s head and inhaled the strawberry scent from Bucky’s hair. They sat there for nearly an hour as Tony poured over the arm, studying each inch of Hydra’s creation.

Sam scooted closer to Steve on the couch. “On the plane,” he said quietly, “Bucky wanted to know if you two had been romantically involved.” Steve’s eyes widened, but Sam continued before he could interrupt. “I told him I didn’t know, but I think it’s something you should clear up.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked.

Sam sighed. “I know it isn’t any of my business, but I do want to help you help him. I just think that with all he’s been through, mixed signals aren’t going to help him any.”

“Mixed signals?”

Sam rolled his eyes and gave a small smile. “Oh you know, the bubble baths, the hair smelling, the comforting massages. Don’t get me wrong—it’s adorable—but Bucky doesn’t even know what friendship is supposed to be. He watches everything I do and say around you. When it doesn’t match up with what you do and say around him, he gets curious. That’s what I think it is, anyways.”

“I…I don’t know what to do,” Steve said, looking to Tony to make sure he couldn’t hear them. “I’ve loved Bucky since we were kids. Only later on when I was a teenager did I realize that it was something more than just loving a friend, but I could never tell him. I feel like now… maybe now I could tell him, eventually. Maybe we could—“

“Shit!” Tony shouted. “Get him out of here,” he ordered, “Get out!”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, already gathering Bucky into his arms as he stood. “What happened?”

Tony’s Iron Man suit flew towards him, fully protecting him in only a few short seconds. “I may have set off the bomb’s timer.”

“ _May have_?” Sam yelled, hurriedly grabbing his wings and following Steve towards the door.

“We’ve got twenty six seconds and counting,” Tony said. “The tracker is now aware of my… _tampering_.”

“Come with me,” Sam said to Steve, grabbing his shoulder. “I can carry both of you out of here.” Steve nodded quickly in reply and followed Sam to the large windows. He gently passed Bucky’s limp body into Sam’s arms and grabbed on to a strap on the wing pack with one hand and his shield with the other.

“Wait!” Tony yelled, tossing Steve the remains of Bucky’s metal arm. “It’s safe now and I have a feeling we might need it later!”

“What are you going to do?” Steve asked, slipping his own arm into the shell of the metal one and using it to hold his shield.

“According to Jarvis,” Tony said, “we’ve got Hydra incoming. And then there’s the little problem of this bomb… but I’ll take care of it all. You just get him out of here.”

Steve hesitated. “Tony, I can help—“

“No, you just get him to safety. He’s not safe unless you’re with him. I can handle this. Eight seconds!”

Sam flew out of the tower with Bucky in his arms and Steve grabbing onto a strap at his side. They were immediately bombarded with gunfire from below. Half a dozen black vehicles were parked outside of Stark Tower, and another few were now pursuing them. Steve held his shield below them from the bullets as Sam flew them through the city. They heard the bomb explode, and Steve looked back to see that some of the windows in the tower had been shattered.

Suddenly, they were falling. “Oh fuck!” Sam yelled as the right wing exploded. Steve reached up and wrapped his arms around Bucky and Sam, protecting them as they hurdled towards the ground. Though Steve’s shield hit the street first, it hardly lessened the impact. He crashed into the asphalt with Sam and Bucky landing on top of him. His vision began to go black. He could feel himself losing consciousness, and he could feel the bundle of Bucky being pried away from his arms. He heard gunshots, but felt no pain. Then, darkness.

Sam was pulled off of Steve almost immediately after hitting the ground. He hadn’t been injured, but adrenaline pumped furiously in his veins as he tried to stand. Four men dressed in all black pulled Bucky from Steve’s shaking arms, and Sam, still dizzy from the fall, pulled out his gun. He fired shots at the men who carried Bucky, but only managed to hit one of them. He stumbled after them, but he was no match for the cars that took Bucky away.

Sam stumbled to Steve’s side and noticed that the metal arm was gone too. Tony soon joined him, spewing obscenities. Tony grabbed Sam and Steve and flew them back into the tower, where the only damage seemed to be in the windows. Steve opened his eyes and saw glass over the floor everywhere. He was slouching on Tony’s couch, with Sam and Tony looking exhausted next to him.

“Bucky,” Steve rasped. Fresh images of Bucky falling off the train hit him harder than the fall they had just suffered, and he could still feel Hydra pulling Bucky out of his grasp. “I let him go,” he whispered. “I let him go.”

“We’ll get him back,” Tony said determinedly. “We’ll get your Bucky back, even if we have to kill every last Hydra member to find him.”

Sam put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault. You protected us both from dying in that fall just now. Bucky’s alive because of you.”

Steve shook his head. “No. Bucky’s with Hydra because of me. And that’s twice now…”

“Steve—“ Sam started.

“I’d rather Bucky were dead than in Hydra’s hands,” Steve said. “They mess with his head and I hate it. He could have lived a normal, happy life. He deserves to rest, and twice now I’ve prevented it.”

“Shut up!” Tony yelled. “Just stop. None of this was your fault. We’ll find him. I can call in Nat and Clint, and maybe some of the others. Hydra’s nothing compared to us.”

Steve shook his head. “Even if we find him again, he’ll know that my promises to keep him safe are empty. They don’t mean a thing if I can’t actually protect him.”

Sam stood up. “We’ll help you find him. We’ll figure out a plan, and we’ll get him back.”

“I love him,” Steve said weakly. “I _need_ him.”

Sam and Tony nodded. “Jarvis,” Tony said, “get the other avengers on the line.”

 

Bucky woke to familiar voices, but they weren’t Steve or Sam’s. He opened his eyes, seeing what he immediately knew to be a small Hydra lab. He was strapped into a chair again, like he always was. Another nightmare, he hoped. “Steve?” he called. “ _Steve_?”

A man Bucky didn’t recognize approached him. “The Winter Soldier has returned. We’re so very thankful for it.” He was holding the metal arm in one hand and a needle in the other. “You were good at your job—what you have done has changed the course of history. We hope you can continue to do so.”

Bucky tried to wrestle free of the constraints, remembering Steve’s promise earlier that day to keep him safe. “Steve!” he cried. His eyes stared in horror at the space where his left arm was supposed to be and he suddenly remembered the first time he had woken up like that. He had been cold and ill when he woke up the first time in a Hydra lab with one arm. Then, glimpses of the Winter Soldier flashed in his mind: training, killing, chasing. He couldn’t go back to that, not after he had been safe with Steve.

“Hold still,” the man ordered. “We must reattach your arm.”

Bucky eyed the man fearfully and continued to strain against the leather straps. “No,” he said. “I won’t do your bidding. Not again.”

The man chuckled. “Of course, of course. Now be still.”

Another man held Bucky down as the first placed the arm at Bucky’s shoulder. The pain was overwhelming, and his vision grew white. Bucky screamed in anguish as the metal arm was reattached and fused at the shoulder. Tears welled up in his eyes as the sounds of power tools and his own cries filled the small room. He couldn’t tell when the procedure had finished, but the pain eventually subsided and the room grew quiet. The man pulled something over his head, and Bucky could hear him speaking.

“Time to clear the memory,” the man said flatly.

“No,” Bucky protested. “No. _Please_ , no.” The man showed no sign of stopping, and Bucky focused on thoughts of Steve. He remembered the rich timbre of Steve’s voice, the sunny color of his hair, the blue of his eyes. He remembered the way Steve laughed and the way he furrowed his brow in worry, and how the latter was far too common. Bucky remembered the feel of Steve’s abs as he had curled up in his lap, and Bucky imagined running his hand along the bare skin of Steve’s torso. The thought surprised him, but at the same time, served to comfort him. He knew he had had feelings for Steve, even if he couldn’t remember them. He remembered feeling comfortable, feeling wanted around Steve, and he remembered caring about Steve as if he were the only other person in the world that mattered. He wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through Steve’s hair to comfort him, to tell him that it was okay, that he could protect Steve now, not the other way around. He remembered Steve’s bed and how there had been the perfect amount of room for the two of them, and he remembered the old drawings Steve would make of him on the days Bucky agreed to sit still. He remembered walking to and from school every day with a smaller Steve, back when his friend was sickly, but no less brave. Bucky remembered their trip to Coney Island, and he could perfectly picture Steve vomiting into a garbage can. He remembered the time they went to Stark Expo and he had to pretend not to be afraid as Steve tried to enlist again, how it had taken all of his strength not to go back into the recruiting tent and pull Steve out of there himself and shout _what the hell are you thinking?_ _You could die!_ He remembered trying to be cheerful as he danced with those two girls that same night. Now he couldn’t even remember their names, but he could remember how his thoughts were on Steve all night. He remembered choking back tears as he left that morning, headed for England, thinking that he would never see Steve again because _how on Earth could Steve possibly survive without him? How could he possibly survive without Steve?_ He remembered how his last thought as he fell from the train in the Alps was _I’m sorry_ , because he couldn’t bear to know that he had let Steve down, that he had lost the opportunity to help and protect Steve in the future. Bucky remembered everything, and he wanted nothing more than to run back to Steve and tell him that it was okay now and that he wanted to spend the rest of his new life exploring the 21st century with him. He remembered it all.

Bucky panicked in the chair as the machine closed around his skull. _No, I can’t forget, he thought._ _Not when I’ve only just remembered._ He ground his teeth and screamed, trying to pull free. _I’ve got to remember,_   _I won’t forget Steve. Steve Rogers,_ he thought, recalling every feature of Steve’s face. _Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers._ The machine turned on and he howled in pain, feeling a tugging all over his body and all he wanted to do was curl up into Steve and sleep. _Steve Rogers_ , he thought. _Steve, Steve, Steve._ Steve’s face became blurry in his mind, and soon all he could see was a tall shape with blond hair. Bucky fought against the intrusion, but the image grew smaller. _Steve, Steve, St… St… S…_

Then, nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recently updated to reflect Allyoop's edits. There's also a (very, very small) bit of sexual activity in this chapter. Consider this your warning :)

Tony, Steve, and Sam recovered in Tony’s living room. Sam sat cross-legged on the floor, organizing the broken remains of the EXO-7 Falcon while Tony looked on, frowning at the wreckage he had only recently repaired. Steve rested on the couch with his head in his hands, unable to distract himself from the horror of losing Bucky long enough to form a plan to save him.

“Wait,” Steve said finally, when Tony instructed Jarvis to contact the other Avengers. Jarvis paused. “We can’t let S.H.I.E.L.D. know what we’re doing. They still think he’s dangerous, so they won’t mind us going after him. But once we found him, they’ll take him into custody and question him.”

“You’re right,” Tony said. “But we can still ask Barton and Romanov for help. They won’t tell S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Sam started, “but wouldn’t S.H.I.E.L.D. be a little suspicious if four of its Avengers plus one go off on their own mission?”

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair, but Tony shook his head. “Not if we’re careful about it. We’re off doing our own thing more often than not—Natasha especially. We’ll just tell them it’s a road trip. A teambuilding exercise. A bonding experience.”

“Is this a joke to you?” Steve snapped. “Maybe you think it’s cute that I want my best friend back, but you also need to take into consideration that HYDRA has their best weapon again. If they keep him long enough, a lot of important people are going to die.”

Tony scowled. “Stop overreacting. I’m aware of what could happen, but I’m also aware that the three of us could benefit from a bit of help. Especially if Nat’s at least somewhat familiar with what the Soviets used Bucky for. We don’t know just how much of HYDRA is left. It could only be a few people, but it could be a lot more.”

Sam nodded in agreement, and Steve consented. “Fine,” he said. “But if S.H.I.E.L.D. finds your road trip idea fishy, I’m going on my own.”

Tony stood. “I was kidding about the road trip,” he said. “But we will have to figure out a cover. Jarvis, tell Nat and Clint we’re celebrating my birthday early this year. S.H.I.E.L.D. won’t find anything suspicious about me throwing a party.” 

***

The Winter Soldier’s eyes snapped open and his arms strained against the leather straps that held him to the chair. He was alone, but he could hear men speaking in an adjacent room. Summoned for another mission, he thought. But something wasn’t right. His mind didn’t feel clear as it usually did when waking, and there was a weight in his chest that he couldn’t recall having felt before. Images of a dark apartment fogged his mind, and he could almost feel the soft cushions of the couch underneath him.

“You’re awake,” a voice said, and Bucky saw a man in a blue suit with dark hair enter the room. “I am here to finish fixing your arm’s technology and brief you on your next mission.” 

“I can’t,” the Winter Soldier replied cautiously. 

The man raised an eyebrow. “And why not?”

He swallowed nervously. “Something’s wrong. I don’t know what it is.”

“With the arm?” 

The Winter Soldier shook his head. “I don’t know.”

The man sighed. “Perhaps you’ve been out of cryo too long. I’ll brief you and perhaps the issue will be fixed by the time we’re finished. If not, I’ll contact someone about delaying your mission.”

The Winter Soldier nodded almost imperceptibly. The man pulled pictures of three men out of a file. One had dark hair and a cocky grin. The label read Tony Stark, and he looked vaguely familiar. Another picture showed a man with dark skin whose expression was more serious. Sam Wilson. Maybe HYDRA has targeted them before, he thought when the second man also looked familiar. The last picture, though, hit the Winter Soldier like a kick to the gut, and the name Steve flashed in his mind even before his eyes could read the name on the file. “Steve,” he whispered, running a metal finger along the photograph.

The other man’s eyes widened. “You are to eliminate all of them without delay. 

Steve, the Winter Soldier thought. Steve… Rogers. Yes, Steve Rogers. But the name felt incomplete. Steve Rogers…Steve Rogers and… and… His eyes widened. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. The two names resonated through his mind with perfect clarity, and he suddenly felt as though he was a part of them. Bucky Barnes. Bucky… Bucky… Buchanan… James Buchanan Barnes. I…I am Bucky…He clenched his fists and broke the restraints as he remembered the past two days. He jumped up, pushing the other man against the wall and closing his hands around his throat. “I won’t do your bidding,” he hissed. “Not anymore.” The man struggled, trying to yell for help, but the hands around his neck squeezed tightly. Finally, he collapsed.

“And leave Steve alone,” Bucky growled, kicking the unconscious form in the head. Then he went to the door and, hearing no voices, entered the next room. He found guns and knives—it was the Winter Soldier’s armory—as well as the clothes he was found in. Steve’s clothes, he remembered as he put on the hoodie and t-shirt, rather than dressing in the Winter Soldier’s uniform. He strapped knives to his body under the clothing, and chose two small guns to hide, as well. He knew it would be difficult to outrun HYDRA, but he had to try. Steve would want me to try, he thought, securing the last weapon in place at his side.   

Bucky snuck his way out of the small room, easily picking the lock and entering the dark hallway. He knew it wasn’t HYDRA’s usual location--it was damp and dirty, nowhere Pierce would want to keep his best asset--and he kept to the shadows as he approached the next door. Bucky put his ear to the door, hearing two bickering men. He couldn’t catch everything they said, though, hearing only words and phrases here and there: wiped...can’t call Pierce...won’t be going anywhere... Bucky took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. That door was the only way out, and it too was locked. He broke it down with his metal arm, cringing at the noise it made as it hit the floor. Voices shouted and he could hear footsteps approaching, but it did not sound like many men. He ripped off the door handle and threw it at a small window, watching as the glass shattered in front of him. Creeping back into the shadows, he watched as the HYDRA agents rushed into view, looking horrified at the sight of the broken window and dashing outside in hopes of catching the Winter Soldier. Bucky followed them noiselessly out of the building, aware that the agents reviewing camera footage later would see him escaping, but that didn’t matter now. He dashed into the forest behind the building and remained in the shadows as he searched for a road. Road signs, he thought, hoping to at least determine if he was still in America. He had Steve’s file carefully tucked inside his hoodie, and he thought about the man who had cared for Bucky the past two days and beyond, though he couldn’t remember specifics. He remembered Steve’s face when Bucky knocked on his bedroom door in the middle of the night, and he remembered how Steve held him close when he realized what the Winter Soldier had done. Bucky sighed, unable to remember how he went from Stark Tower to the HYDRA hideout. Did Stark turn me in? Bucky frowned at the thought, but understood why Tony would have done that. After what I did to his parents, I would have turned me in, too. He came across a sign that listed nearby towns, and was relieved they were in English, even if the closest one was an hour’s walk away. Still in the U.S., he thought. Then, a short, scrawny version of Steve appeared in his head, chuckling and saying, or Canada, or England, or Australia, or a number of other countries, you idiot. Bucky was comforted by the image, as he picked his way through the forest, walking backwards every so often and dusting away his footprints in order to buy more time if HYDRA found them . He stuck to the shadows until nightfall and only looked for a place in the woods to sleep when his stomach growled, and he was hit with the realization that he had no food, money, or shelter. He curled up into a ball at the foot of a tree, frowning and thinking I’ve got to find Steve until he fell asleep.  

***

Natasha and Clint stood in elevator of Stark tower, heading to the top floor.

“Birthday party, huh?” Clint said wryly, breaking the silence.

Natasha smiled amusedly. “An urgent birthday party, apparently.”

The doors to the elevator opened into Tony’s living room, where Steve was stressing over a map, Sam was comforting him, and Tony was spinning a projected globe.

“Welcome to the party,” Tony said, grinning. “Can I get you kids drinks?”

Clint scanned the room, shaking his head as he took in the obvious lack of a party.

“No thanks,” Natasha said. “I have a feeling this party isn’t going to be the drinking kind.” She walked over to Steve, who nodded a quick greeting before returning to the map. “What’s wrong with him?”

“His toy was stolen,” Tony replied cheekily.

“Bucky’s not a damn toy!” Steve snapped, surprising everyone with his outburst.

“He’s gone?” Natasha asked.

Sam nodded. “HYDRA found us. They took him away.”

“HYDRA was able to take him from the three of you?” Clint asked seriously.

Steve sighed. “I tried…I didn’t mean to let him go...”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Sam said sternly. “You saved his life. And mine. It’s thanks to you that he’s alive to look for.”

“But they grabbed him right out of my arms!” Steve bellowed. Then, more quietly, he said, “He wasn’t even safe when I was holding him.”

“Fact,” Tony started, “you weren’t conscious when I grabbed you, so how could you have been expected to still hold him?” He paused for a moment. “On that note, are you okay?”

Steve nodded. “I just need to focus on finding Bucky.”

“So what do you want us to do?” Natasha asked. “That’s why we’re here, right?”

Tony nodded. “Bucky could be anywhere right now. Anywhere at all. Nat, you know more about what the Soviets used him for, so we thought you might be able to help.”

“And me?” Clint asked, half jokingly.

“Well, I kind of have a plan,” Tony said, looking cautiously to Steve, who raised an eyebrow in reply.

“The plan is that I stay here,” Tony said. The others’ expressions were varying degrees of oh really, and he continued. “I’ve got a lot of tech that I can use here, but it might take a few hours to fully implement into the Iron Man suit. Instead, I can use it here and communicate any findings to you guys. I think it would be good to stick together, either all four or in two groups of two, to track him down and eliminate HYDRA along the way. Example: Steve and Sam can focus solely on finding Bucky before HYDRA does anything more to him, while Nat and Clint follow behind and destroy HYDRA. That way, Steve and Sam can get to Bucky more quickly.” He stopped, looking to the others for approval.

“I can’t make you all do this,” Steve said, shaking his head. “I should go alone.”

“No,” everyone else said simultaneously.

“I like Tony’s plan,” Clint said.

“So if HYDRA realizes that Steve and Sam are onto them, we’ve got their backs,” Natasha added.

“Exactly,” Tony replied.

“Will that let us find him fastest?” Steve asked.

Tony nodded. “I think so. I’ll be managing maps and scanning security cams across the globe from here, and I’ll let you know as soon as something changes.”

“Where do we start?” Sam asked.

Tony pulled up a map of the U.S. with all known HYDRA bases. “If anyone knows of other HYDRA hideouts that are missing, let me know. But let’s start with process of elimination.” They all worked to find where Bucky would most likely have been taken to, eliminating bases that had already been destroyed by S.H.I.E.L.D. or were inconveniently far away. They were left with three reasonably likely locations: Seattle, Chicago, and an old, rundown location in northern Vermont. 

“Well,” Clint said. “That’s quite the geographic range…”

“I have planes,” Tony said.

“If we go to the wrong one first, though, they could have him anywhere in the world by the time we realize our mistake,” Steve said.

“We won’t make a mistake,” Natasha said. “We’re not leaving until we’re sure we’re going to the right place.”

Tony pulled up images from cameras near each location. None of them showed suspicious-looking incoming planes or helicopters. “They would have travelled by air to get Bucky’s arm fixed as quickly as possible, or at least before he woke up.”

“They had cars, though,” Sam said. “Maybe they flew somewhere and then picked up other cars and drove a while.”

The conversation continued, but Steve couldn’t focus. He sat on the couch and brought his knees to his chest. For the first time since being injected with the serum, he felt like vomiting. He needed Bucky by his side—he always had, but this time he was willing to admit it. He was thankful to have had Bucky with him for a short period of time, even if he hadn’t remembered everything, but it made losing his friend even more painful. Though he had slept less than he normally did with Bucky around, his sleep had been nightmare-free for the first time since 1945. His bed was normally too soft, but it had been just right with Bucky. He imagined bringing Bucky back to his apartment, which would become their apartment, and doing everything he could to bring Bucky’s memories back. He would take him back to Brooklyn, show him where they used to live, take them to Coney Island. He would try to locate his old sketchbooks—they were in a museum somewhere—and show Bucky his old sketches, graphite snapshots of their adolescence, and help him remember.

“Steve!” Natasha’s voice grabbed Steve’s attention. He was shaking, and she knelt down in front of him. The others looked on with concern as she put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to find him,” she said quietly. “We won’t stop until he’s back with you.”

Steve stood up, trying to clear his mind in order to focus on planning Bucky’s rescue. Never before had he been so distracted by loss.

“Want a drink?” Tony asked in an attempt to comfort him.

Steve shook his head. “Can’t get drunk, remember?”

“Dude, what do you mean?” Sam asked, trying not to laugh. 

Steve smiled sadly. “I know, it’s--”

“It’s Vermont,” Clint interrupted, pointing to one of the video clips. “Footage from a small airfield about ten miles away from the HYDRA base shows black cars leaving. It’s got to be them. The rest of the area is empty.”

“We can’t see who’s getting off,” Tony said, “but it looks like an expensive plane, and it’s definitely fast.”

“But that doesn’t necessarily mean HYDRA, does it?” Sam asked.

Tony grinned. “No, but all S.H.I.E.L.D. aircraft are registered in a database, and if HYDRA was operating within S.H.I.E.L.D., then this plane should be listed.”

Clint searched the database. “It’s here,” he said.

“We should go now,” Steve said, “if we’re sure it’s them.”

“I don’t know,” Natasha said. “HYDRA probably has control over the airfield. They would see us coming literally from miles away.”

“So we drive?” Sam asked.

Tony nodded. “That’s the best way. They’re probably monitoring my tower and everything of mine that moves, so if you really want to surprise them, then flying isn’t an option.”

“I’m not going to sit around here and wait for every detail to be worked out,” Steve said. “Not while Bucky’s in danger. I’m going now, and if you wall want to stay behind and plan, then I’ll go alone." 

“Man, calm down,” Sam said. “We’re with you, but we have to at least be somewhat prepared to fight whatever we come across. Let’s at least suit up, huh?”

Steve nodded, and they all began to arm themselves. Sam found a Falcon suit prototype that Tony had been working on, and he put it in an ordinary looking backpack. Steve, Natasha, and Clint began hiding weapons in their “normal” clothes, while Tony programmed an off-every-grid-except-his-own phone for each of them. Steve grabbed his shield and the bag he had packed with clothes for himself and Bucky, hoping that their mission would be over quickly.

“I’ve got two cars waiting downstairs for you,” Tony said. “They look normal, but they’ve got bulletproof glass and are connected to Jarvis. It’ll take about five and a half hours to get to the HYDRA base, and it’s already 7.30.”

“We can drive the whole way tonight,” Clint said.

“Will you be prepared to fight HYDRA after midnight?” Tony asked.

Natasha smiled. “Always.”

 

Steve sat in the passenger seat as Sam drove, with Clint and Natasha following close behind them. He had volunteered to drive, but Sam had refused, saying that Steve should take the five hours to relax so he could best help Bucky. He hadn’t argued with Sam, and he found his eyes closing of their own accord before they were even out of the city. He pictured the four of them breaking into the HYDRA base and finding it empty. He sighed in frustration.

“You know, he could still be there,” Sam said, sensing Steve’s fears. “We don’t know how long it could take for them to reequip and…wipe him.”

Steve nodded silently. He soon dozed off, half aware of the CD Sam was playing and half thinking of Bucky back in Brooklyn when they were nineteen. He wondered how their lives would have differed if he had told Bucky how he felt then, if he had acted on the feelings he had instead of repressing them. It was easy to imagine Bucky, coming back to their apartment after a long day of working at the docks and making something for dinner. Sometimes they had soup, or sandwiches, or more potatoes than Steve cared to remember. He had tried to prepare food before Bucky returned more often once he noticed that Bucky had been giving him larger portions than himself. You can have the rest of mine, Steve said on a number of days when he noticed that Bucky was particularly hungry or when he thought Bucky would have to skip a meal the next day. No way, Bucky always replied, but Steve would say there’s no way I could finish this all. I’m full already, and Bucky would oblige him, though Steve knew he didn’t believe him. Those nights, Steve would stay up late drawing and wait for Bucky to fall asleep in the bedroom before going to his own twin bed, afraid Bucky would hear his stomach grumbling in the silence.

Steve was vaguely aware that Sam had pulled off a major highway, but his thoughts remained on Bucky. His imagination entertained hundreds of what ifs, remembering Bucky’s lopsided grin when he woke up and realized it was Saturday. Steve imagined an alternate history where he got out of bed and took the two steps to Bucky’s bed, leaning down to kiss his perfect lips. It would have been forceful by Steve’s standards, though he had been so small that it would have simply felt like confidence to Bucky. Bucky would crinkle his brow, smirk, and return the kiss, pulling Steve on top of him. Better than any girl I’ve kissed, Steve imagined him saying. Oh shut up, Steve would have replied, but secretly he would have been elated to have Bucky’s approval. He imagined himself sketching in their apartment when Bucky returned from work, asking what he was drawing this time. Steve would show him this one—a drawing of Bucky—though he had hundreds of similar sketches in a box under his bed. Bucky would look at him seriously for a moment before pulling him into a heated kiss, pushing Steve further into the couch cushions beneath him. He imagined being strong enough to flip them over so that he straddled Bucky, his hands snaking their way under Bucky’s shirt and making him moan. Steve, what are you—he would silence him with a kiss, slow and passionate this time as shirts and belts and trousers came undone. He pictured himself sliding down until he faced Bucky’s long, stiffening cock, taking it into his mouth and flicking his tongue over the tip. Oh God, Bucky would moan as he began to thrust into his eager mouth. Steve, Steve…

“Steve!”

His eyes flew open and he saw Sam looking at him curiously.

“Man, you all right?" 

Steve tried to control his breathing and nodded. “Uh, yeah.” He became aware of growing erection and his cheeks flushed red. He pulled his backpack up from the floor and pretended to rummage through it to conceal his problem from Sam.

“We’re almost there,” Sam said. “We’ve got about fifteen minutes until we reach HYDRA-monitored areas. Tony says there’s a little activity at the base, but not much—three or four people at most—but we need to be prepared for more.”

“What are Nat and Clint doing?” Steve asked.

“We’ll go in first and they’ll cover us.”

“Won’t HYDRA see two cars?” Steve asked, finally able to put the backpack down.

“Boo!” Clint teased from the backseat. Steve recoiled, and Natasha smirked.

“We’ll jump out quietly when we get there,” she said. “But don’t have too much fun without us.”

Clint and Natasha did as they planned, sneaking out of the car as Sam and Steve neared the entrance to the HYDRA hideout. They parked the car out of view in the forest and snuck past the gate, which wasn’t guarded.

“They must have a shortage of people,” Sam said, “if no one’s charging admission.”

Steve nodded, quietly stepping over branches until they reached the clearing in the woods where a small brick building stood. Lights were on inside, and through the small window they could see two men arguing while another man slouched unconscious—or dead—against the wall. One man shouted it was your job to watch him! We’ll be fired for this, if we’re lucky! Steve frowned—it seemed too easy, and there was no sign of Bucky at all—but he did as they planned and broke down the door. He and Sam held a gun to each man.

“Where is he?” Steve demanded.

“Who?” one of the HYDRA men replied, trying to sound casual.

“You know exactly who,” Steve growled. “Sergeant James Barnes. The Winter Soldier.”

The man shrugged. “The name means nothing to me.”

Steve didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger, sending a bullet into the man’s skull. Blood and brains spattered the wall behind him as he fell.

Sam’s eyes widened in shock. “Steve…!”

“He was lying,” Steve replied flatly, his nostrils flaring. He turned to the remaining HYDRA agent. “Your turn.”

“He’s not here,” the man blurted. Steve aimed the gun at his head, and the man continued. “We don’t have him. Really. I swear. Please don’t shoo—“

Steve shot the man before he could finish his plea. Sam lowered his gun and stared at Steve in disbelief and concern. “Man, what the hell was that?”

“They weren’t going to help us,” Steve replied coldly. “And they were right. He’s not here.”

Natasha came in through another door. “You’ll want to see this,” she said quickly. Steve and Sam followed her into the adjacent room, where they saw a chair with broken leather straps.

“Bucky,” Steve whispered, imagining his friend struggling against the restraints as his mind was wiped clean.

“Keep going,” Natasha said, following them into yet another room. This one had weapons—guns of every kind, knives, grenades, and more—and some were obviously missing. The Winter Soldier’s uniform was folded neatly on a table, and Natasha picked up a piece of thread that had caught on the table. “Bucky was wearing a blue hoodie, right?”

Steve nodded, carefully taking the thread from her. “He was here.”

“And by the looks of it,” Sam said, “he escaped.”

“There’s also this,” she said, picking up a folder and handing it to Steve. “Clint’s keeping guard outside, just in case.”

Steve looked at the file. It had that day’s date on it, and was simply titled Mission. He opened the folder, and read aloud: “The Winter Soldier. To be briefed after wiping memory and fixing arm. Mission Targets: Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, and…Steve Rogers.”

“Not again,” Sam whispered, immediately knowing that Steve would be apathetic to the danger he would be putting himself in by going after Bucky.

“So they did wipe him,” Steve said quietly. “We’ve got to help him.”

“Not before I warn Tony,” Natasha said. “I’m sorry, Steve, but he’s dangerous.”

Steve turned away, relief and fear battling inside him. While Bucky wasn’t there in the hands of HYDRA, Steve knew he was alone and unprotected, and his stomach churned at the thought of Bucky being hunted down by those he had escaped, unaware of who he even was. He thought of all the times Bucky had protected him as kids, caring for him when he was sick or injured, making sure Steve knew he was never alone. “Dangerous or not,” he said, “I’m going to find him.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay in posting this chapter, but thanks for sticking with me. I'll try to have the next few chapters up much more quickly. As always, your feedback keeps me motivated, so thanks! :)

Clint, who had been keeping watch from outside, joined up with Steve, Sam, and Natasha as they exited the HYDRA hideout. “I found tracks,” he said. “It looks like someone tried to cover them up and missed a few.”

“What kind of shoe?” Steve asked him, remembering the sneakers he had given to Bucky.

“Nike. Size 12,” Clint replied, watching as Steve’s stern expression briefly gave way to hope.

“Bucky,” Steve said confidently, searching for the tracks himself.  

Clint pointed into the forest behind the building. “The strides look rushed. He was running in a kind of erratic pattern. If he were on a mission, he’d have been running with a purpose and a location in mind, not like this.”

Steve nodded, finally spotting the faint footsteps and following them closer to the woods.

“HYDRA’s going to realize soon that this hideout has been compromised,” Natasha said, looking around cautiously. “Steve, you and Sam ought to go ahead and follow the tracks. Clint and I’ll stay back a while, finish taking care of things here, keep HYDRA off your trail.”

Clint nodded in agreement. “We’ve probably got fifteen minutes max before HYDRA’s backup arrives.”

Steve and Sam exchanged a glance, tacitly agreeing to start off immediately.

“Keep us updated,” Natasha said as the two men began to walk away. _Be safe, you don’t know what you’re dealing with_ went unsaid, but not unnoticed.

Steve turned to give her a grim smile. Then, he and Sam set off into the woods, following Bucky’s footsteps into the darkness.

***

Bucky woke an hour later, reprimanding himself for falling asleep in the first place. _Too dangerous_ , he thought. It was still dark, though he could tell that the first light of morning was only another hour or two away. He saw hundreds of stars above him and he shivered. His stomach growled loudly, and somewhere in the distance a dog barked. He wrapped his arms around his body and shrunk further against the tree as he thought of Steve, hoping that HYDRA hadn’t harmed him. He remembered a young Steve being beaten in an alley in Brooklyn, though he had undoubtedly been the instigator. This time, though, it was HYDRA hurting Steve, and Bucky wasn’t there to help him. He took a moment to consider his current situation, knowing that the two HYDRA agents would have noticed his absence quickly, and that they would have sent out agents to search for him. He thought of Steve’s apartment, wanting nothing more in that moment than to be in Steve’s bed with the other man’s arms wrapped safely around him. It would be nearly impossible, though, to make it back to Steve’s apartment without HYDRA noticing. Bucky closed his eyes and sighed. He could picture Pierce questioning Steve, and then Sam and Tony, and threatening to harm them. _And Pierce will use me_ , he thought. _Steve’s my weakness, but I’m his_ , Bucky realized, immediately feeling sick. _I’m the reason Steve’s in danger_.

The sound of footsteps crunching on the forest floor reached Bucky’s ears, immediately focusing his attention. _HYDRA_ , he thought as his heart pounded in his chest. His hearing was better than average, but he estimated that the footsteps he heard were only a hundred feet away. He jumped up, listening for a moment longer before sprinting away as quietly and silently as he could. Bucky knew there were a few bridges nearby, but he also knew those were dangerous places to hide when being hunted. _Bridges are too predictable_. He ran—south, he thought—with only the image of Steve encouraging him to keep running. He finally reached the road, seeing distant lights approaching. Bucky feared it was HYDRA and snuck behind a tree, but when it came into view he saw that it was a semi-truck. He glanced back into the woods, unable to hear footsteps over the noise of the truck. _I’ve got to find Steve. I can’t go back to HYDRA._ _I won’t_. As the truck passed him, he dashed into the road behind it and jumped onto the back of the trailer, holding on to the handle and dangling from it with his metal arm as the truck barreled down the road into the morning. 

***

Sam and Steve followed the tracks wordlessly. Sam was still fixated on Steve’s actions at the HYDRA hideout. Vindictive Steve was not something he was accustomed to, and he thought of the best way to approach the subject as they searched for Bucky. Though he would never say so out loud, Sam could see that the whole episode with Bucky was only hurting Steve. He wanted to say, _hey man, I understand what you’re going through. I know you’re angry, and I know you want revenge on the people who’ve hurt Bucky, but it’s not going to help. Nothing’s going to help. Believe me, I know_. As he opened his mouth to speak, something caught his eye. 

Sam knelt down, finding disturbed leaves and footprints at the base of a tree. _The perfect place to sleep unnoticed_. “He’s got to be close.”

Steve examined the Bucky-sized burrow at the foot of the tree and he could picture his Bucky, not the Winter Soldier, curled up like he had been in his lap in his apartment. The anger he had felt at the HYDRA base returned; his nostrils flared and he clenched his fists. Bucky had been safe, Bucky had been _home_. And then HYDRA took him away. The past few days were just a dream—finally a different image than Bucky falling from the train—but still a dream. _How could I have ever thought he was safe?_

“Steve,” Sam said. “He’s close. We should keep going.”

Steve nodded, starting to walk again. He heard a noise—someone running—and pulled out his shield. “Someone’s out there,” he told Sam quietly.

Sam listened, but heard nothing. “Friends? Foe?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, breaking into a run in the direction of the noise anyway. Sam followed, pulling out his gun and preparing to engage the Falcon suit if necessary.

“It’s him,” Steve said, running faster.

Sam struggled to keep up. “Can you see him?”

“No. I just know.”

They heard the sound of a truck before they saw the road, and Bucky’s footsteps stopped at the asphalt. The noise from the truck faded into the distance, and Steve frantically searched for the continuation of footsteps. There were some leading behind a tree, but they disappeared.

“No, no, they’ve got to be here,” Steve protested. “There has to be a path somewhere.”

Sam frowned, knowing they wouldn’t find more evidence of Bucky. The road would have given him the opportunity he needed to travel without leaving evidence of his steps. Had Sam been on the run, he knew he would have reveled the sight of a road. “Steve, we should call Nat and Clint.” 

Steve looked at him and nodded slowly, finally pulling out his phone. When Clint answered, he simply said, “We lost the tracks.”

“How far did you get?” Clint asked.

“A few miles,” Steve replied. “Four at the most. The prints stopped at a road.”

“Follow the road,” Clint said. “At least you’ll be going in the right direction. Nat and I just cleaned up our mess here and we plan to leave before HYDRA sends a second wave of backup.”

“Will we meet up with you guys?”

“There’s a town about 10 miles south of where you are now. There’s a restaurant that’s open early for breakfast. We’ll meet you there at 5.30.”

Steve didn’t ask how Clint knew about the restaurant or the town, but agreed and told Sam of their plan.

“10 miles?” Sam asked. When Steve nodded, Sam smiled. “That won’t take much battery power from the wings. If we fly, we’ll have a few hours to sleep.” Sam knew that he needed sleep, knew that Steve needed sleep, too, and grabbed Steve’s arm, flying over the road towards the town.

***

Bucky jumped from the back of the truck when it slowed, pulling into a gas station. Bucky kept out of sight in the early morning shadows, startling himself when his stomach grumbled loudly. He groaned inwardly as he remembered that he had no money. He didn’t trust himself to steal food from the gas station, unsure if he could move quietly enough to go unseen. He pulled his hood over his head and watched for cars. No one was around, though, except for a few large trucks parked around back and the cashier who wasn’t paying attention. He spotted something fluttering near the dumpster in back and checked both directions before approaching quickly. It was a ten-dollar bill, and Bucky picked it up gently, studying its appearance in his metal hand. After a quick pause, he began walking into town, spotting a diner. It wasn’t open yet, but the sign on the door said it opened at five in the morning. He estimated that it was around four, and he disappeared behind the building to wait.

For a moment, Bucky allowed himself to relax. While he was still scared of being found by HYDRA, he was confident that the truck had afforded him at least a small head start. And he was so _hungry_. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he was taken from Stark tower—a day? Less? Two days? Three? He was comforted by the memory of eating breakfast with Steve in their small apartment in Brooklyn. Porridge had always been Steve’s favorite, but Bucky had never liked it, only starting to eat it when they couldn’t afford anything else. He remembered some days when they had toast, and he smiled at the memory of their landlady giving them eggs on one occasion. He remembered the way Steve looked at him when he ate—hell, he remembered the way _he_ looked at Stevewhen _Steve_ ate—often exchanging amused glances with each other. Steve had always eaten delicately, “politely,” he had insisted, careful not to scoop too much porridge onto the spoon at one time. “Lasts longer that way,” he had told Bucky once. Bucky’s food was always gone too quickly, and sometimes he thought the only reason he used a spoon at all was so as not to annoy Steve. He visualized their Brooklyn apartment, comparing the tiny space to Steve’s current one in D.C. It had been smaller and darker, and they didn’t have much furniture, but it had been home. Bucky knew that he would always feel like a guest in Steve’s new apartment, would always feel like he was imposing on Steve’s new life.

The diner opened right at five, and Bucky entered a few minutes later, hood pulled far over his head and metal hand hidden in the pocket. He chose the booth against the wall in the back of the old restaurant, close to the kitchen in case he needed to make an escape. He scanned the room—empty save for the young waitress who looked far too tired to actually do anything—and breathed deeply. _Eat quickly, then go. Find Steve_. There was a menu sitting on the table, but he didn’t look at it. The blonde girl approached him and smiled mechanically.

“What can I get you?” she asked, looking at him curiously when he looked up from his hood with scared eyes.

Bucky couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what he wanted. He wanted food, but he found himself unable to make a decision. The Winter Soldier hadn’t made decisions, and he silently cursed HYDRA for still holding influence over him. He stuttered, trying to say something, say anything, but he remained frozen.

“Coffee?” the waitress asked kindly, trying not to let her face show her curiosity with the character in the booth. He _definitely_ wasn’t a regular.

Bucky nodded, sliding the ten-dollar bill across the table with his shaky right hand.

“Would you like any food?” she asked slowly, cautiously, ignoring the money on the table. His clothes were too clean to be homeless, but he looked like the type who didn’t have a home, even if he did have living quarters somewhere.

He nodded, finally able to manage “porridge” quietly, thinking of Steve in their old small kitchen.

The girl smiled. “Absolutely. I’ll be right back with your coffee.”

Bucky stared motionlessly at the door, waiting for HYDRA to enter. His eyes flicked momentarily to the waitress when she returned with his coffee.

“I hear it’s supposed to rain today,” she offered, but Bucky simply focused on the cup of coffee and she walked away.

It had been so long since he had had coffee—the Winter Soldier had only ever been given water, as far as he could remember, and some odd protein shake-like drinks. He gulped it eagerly, shocking himself as he burned his tongue and the roof of his mouth and smiling when it reminded him of the time he had done the exact same thing with Steve when he had saved up enough money to buy them a sizeable breakfast one day from the café down the street.

The porridge arrived soon after, with a bowl of strawberries on the side. Bucky looked up at the waitress questioningly, but she just smiled before walking away. He picked up the spoon with his right hand, stirring the bowl’s contents contemplatively before dumping the strawberries into the porridge. He wanted to stick his face into the bowl and eat it all as quickly as his mouth would allow, but he remembered Steve’s voice saying, “lasts longer that way,” and he scooped a small amount into his spoon. The taste was comforting, reminding him of home and of Steve, and he sighed before starting on the rest of the bowl.

***

Sam and Steve walked around the small town, looking for signs of Bucky, but everything was quiet and appeared undisturbed. They found the diner Clint had mentioned, but decided to continue to search the town until 5:30. They walked until Sam stopped and cleared his throat. Steve looked at him expectantly.

“About what happened back at the HYDRA base…”

“Forget it,” Steve replied. “They were responsible for hurting Bucky.”

“That’s the thing,” Sam said. “You don’t know that. There are a lot of HYDRA people responsible for what happened to him, but even more who probably didn’t even know he existed. You don’t know what those people did or didn’t do to hurt him.”

Steve looked at him, his expression a mixture of irritation and dejection. “You were a soldier. You know that innocent people die, no matter how hard we work to prevent it. But those people weren’t innocent. They chose to continue working for HYDRA even after it was exposed.”

Sam sighed, taking a moment to compose himself. “Yeah, I know. But what happened back there… it wasn’t like you.”

Steve’s expression turned stern. “How do you know?”

Sam shook his head. “Dude, you’re Captain America for a reason.”

Steve gave a sad smile. “Sometimes I think it’d be better if I weren’t…”

“But?”

“But then I remember everyone who made me who I am. Bucky, Erskine, Howard Stark, Peggy. Everything they did…I can’t undo that.”

“Man, the rest of the world sees your war as a thing of the distant past, but I know that it’s still recent for you. I’ve seen a lot of men and women come back from war really messed up. And what you saw wasn’t just ‘ordinary’ battlefield stuff. It might help if you talked to someone about it.”

Steve looked at Sam sadly, shaking his head. “I’ve got to focus on finding Bucky.”

Sam nodded. “I’m just saying, maybe sometime.”

“Thank you, Sam, but I can handle it on my own. It’ll be fine once Bucky’s back.”

“We’ll see,” Sam said with a frown. “But I really hope you’re right.”

At 5:20, they sat down at the curb near the diner, waiting for Clint and Natasha. It began to rain lightly, and Natasha appeared moments later.

“Clint’s checking inside,” she said, “to make sure it’s safe.”

***

Bucky had just finished his porridge when an unusual man entered the diner. He looked around, eyes stopping on Bucky for a moment before choosing the booth closest to the door. He wore mostly black and carried a bow with a quiver strapped to his back. Bucky watched as the man’s eyes focused on him for a moment before bringing his hand to his ear, speaking softly into a hidden radio. The waitress approached him, but he quickly waved her away. Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest and his brow began to sweat. His breaths grew shorter, and he shrunk further back into the booth, trying not to arouse the man’s suspicion. He saw three figures standing outside the diner, but the rain obscured details in their appearance. When they began walking towards the entrance, Bucky slid out of the booth and dashed into the kitchen, looking for the back exit. As soon as he disappeared from view, he could hear the archer getting up and running to follow him, and he heard the front door of the diner open and someone else enter. The cook gave him an odd look before he rushed out the back door, stumbling over crates.

The rain was heavier than he had expected and soon his hood felt plastered around his head. He looked around, seeing no one but hearing footsteps coming around the building. There was nowhere to run: the town was in front of the building, and a rather large field separated the diner from the forest behind it. In the field, he would be an open target, a target all too easy for HYDRA to reclaim. He thought of Steve and wondered what his friend would do in this situation. Steve would be brave: he would fight they HYDRA agents and win. Bucky reached into his clothes for the weapons he had hidden, pulling out a knife and a small gun. The man with the bow and arrows was first to come into his view, but his weapon was lowered. 

“I’m not going to hurt you!” he shouted. “I’m not HYDRA. I’m with Steve.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in fear, wanting the man’s words to be true but unable to believe them. _He’s using Steve to get to me_ , he thought. The man didn’t approach, but instead simply stood in the rain and watched him.

Then, Steve— _his_ Steve—appeared from around the side of the building, and Bucky could feel his weapons slipping from his wet fingers. “Steve,” he whispered. Steve’s face lit up for a moment in hope before growing worried again.

“Bucky!” he called. “Buck, it’s me, Steve!”

Bucky nodded slowly, anxiously looking around for HYDRA agents. A woman appeared at the archer’s side, but she didn’t approach him, and she carried no weapons in her hands. Bucky looked back to Steve, who cautiously approached him. Then he saw Sam. _Steve’s friend_ , he thought. “Steve,” Bucky whispered again, sinking to his knees. _Not HYDRA. Not HYDRA. Not HYDRA._

 _Steve_.

Steve saw his name on Bucky’s lips and closed the distance between them, kneeling down to be at eye level with Bucky. “Do you remember me?” he asked, afraid of the response.

Bucky nodded. “I…I remember everything, Steve… everything,” he croaked, looking into Steve’s eyes.

Steve pulled him into a tight hug. “It’s going to be okay, Buck. It’s going to be okay.” He pulled away slightly, tugging Bucky’s hood down, allowing the rain to soak through his hair. Steve looked at him seriously, remembering all of the times he had wanted to tell him that he loved him, all of the missed opportunities to tell Bucky how he felt. “Everything?” he asked seriously.

Bucky nodded, rainwater or tears trickling down his cheeks. “I remember Stark’s tower, I remember coming to your apartment, I remember the Winter Soldier’s missions, our missions back in the war, seeing you for the first time after…well...after whatever the Army did to you. I remember us being kids, I remember all that, Stevie.”

Steve took a deep breath, reaching out a hand to gently tuck Bucky’s wet hair behind his ear. He didn’t remove his hand, instead leaning closer, bringing Bucky’s head closer to his own. Their lips met and Steve heard Bucky give a small mew of approval before deepening the kiss. They stayed like that under the rain for a long moment, and when Steve finally pulled away, Bucky grinned up at him and muttered, “punk.”

 Steve half laughed and half sobbed “jerk” in return before wrapping his arms around Bucky once more and burying his face into his shoulder.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay in posting this chapter--life has, once again, gotten in the way of writing. But all of your comments and feedback motivate me to keep writing, so thanks to everyone reading this. Also, this chapter is mainly just set-up for the next chapter, which I will really, really try to have up in less than a week.

Tony sent a plane to pick them up and take them to one of the safe houses he had in the country. When Clint had asked the pilot where they were going, the man simply replied, “Somewhere between Mr. Stark’s residences in Malibu and New York City.” Clint scowled the rest of the flight and only cracked a smile once when Sam made a joke about the location being the only thing the public didn’t know about Tony. They were all still wet from the rain, and everyone except Steve and Bucky worked to figure out where they were going based on the speed and assumed direction of the aircraft. Meanwhile, Steve alternated between quizzing Bucky enthusiastically on their childhood and staring at his friend in silent wonder and adoration.

Finally, Bucky looked to the others. “Where are we going?”

\--“Michigan.”

\--“Colorado.”

\--“Texas.”

Clint, Natasha, and Sam glared at each other and immediately began bickering. Bucky pursed his lips and scrunched his face before returning his attention to Steve.

“Wherever it is, it’ll be safe,” Steve said confidently.

Bucky nodded in reply, but said nothing. Never would he have imagined that it would be Steve taking care of him, rather than the other way around. They sat in relative silence, listening to the others’ argument. Eventually, he hesitantly leaned towards Steve. “Um…about earlier,” he said, his voice as quiet as possible over drone of the engine.

“What earlier?” Steve asked. His heart jumped in fear—he knew what Bucky was talking about, but what if he regretted it? “Back in Brooklyn earlier? Or over in Europe earlier?” he stammered.

Bucky’s eyes widened in realization for a moment before he quickly forced his face into a neutral expression. He had gone too far. He wasn’t allowed to talk about this. _The Asset doesn’t ask questions_ , a voice in his head hissed. _I’m not the Winter Soldier anymore_ , Bucky thought. _I’m not The Asset_. But he couldn’t clear his thoughts from HYDRA’s influence, so he pulled his knees up to his chest and looked down. “Never mind,” he said quietly to Steve. “I remember.”

Steve nodded slowly, not wanting to press the issue if it would only lead to rejection. He silently reprimanded himself for taking advantage of Bucky when he was in a vulnerable state. _It was just one kiss, though_ , he thought. _And Bucky seemed to return the feelings. But he had just regained his memories and discovered that he was safe. The relief and happy emotions he would have been feeling maybe led him to return the kiss, even if he doesn’t feel the same way._

“Hey, Steve, are you okay?”

Natasha’s voice reached him and he snapped out of his thoughts. “Fine,” he replied. After a moment he asked, “Any more thoughts on where we’re going?”

“It’s not a safe house if anyone can figure out where it is,” Clint grumbled from across the plane’s aisle.

“I didn’t think you guys were just anyone,” Sam countered.

“Colorado’s looking like the most promising option,” Clint said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“That’s just because you suggested it,” Sam said.

“It sure as hell isn’t Michigan or Texas,” Clint replied, “based on our direction now.”

Natasha’s phone rang. “It’s Tony,” she said. Clint snatched the phone from her and put it on speakerphone before returning it to Natasha.

“Everything going well?” Tony asked, sounding short of breath.

“So far,” Natasha replied.

“Good. I just arrived at the house, and it looks like you’ll be there in thirty minutes, so I’ll see you soon. How’s Bucky doing?”

Everyone looked at Bucky for a reply, but he was unaware of their conversation. He was focused on the window, his knees still pulled close to his torso.

“He’s okay,” Steve said. “He remembers things now.”

“Really?” Tony asked. “That’s good. I mean, it’s a start, at least. You’re not working with a blank slate. Anyways, I have to go. Bye!” There was a large crash, and then the line went dead.

“What was that?” Sam asked.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “That would be Tony crashing into something. He probably hasn’t perfected his latest design.”

“No danger?”

Natasha shook her head. “Just Tony being himself.”

No one said anything until the plane landed, though Clint’s satisfaction with himself grew every minute as it became clear that they were in Colorado.

Steve turned to Bucky as the others disembarked. “We’re here,” he said quietly. Bucky flinched at the noise, and when he looked up at Steve, it was with sad eyes.

“All right,” Bucky said quietly. His thoughts of Steve had preoccupied him for the second half of the flight—worry that Steve regretted kissing him, nervous that he shouldn’t have kissed him back, and a paralyzing fear that he would never kiss Steve again. Slowly, Bucky stood and followed the rest of the group off the plane, where Tony was waiting cheerfully.

“Good job, guys, I knew you could do it,” Tony cheered sardonically. Despite his smile, he looked exhausted. Then, he turned to Bucky and, quite seriously, said, “I’m glad you’re back.”

Bucky could only nod in reply. _What am I supposed to say to the man whose parents I killed?_ Tall pine trees surrounded the nearly hidden runway, and mountains jutted away from the earth in every direction. Bucky looked around, but saw no house. They walked through the forest for a few minutes before coming to a small log cabin in the thick woods.

“Uh, am I the only one wondering how we’re all going to fit in there?” Sam asked.

Natasha smiled. “Knowing Tony, there’s more.”

Tony faked offense. “I’ll have you know…that you’re absolutely correct. There are ten levels underground. Absolutely secret. Hydra wouldn’t be able to find you even if I told them you were here.”

“What about the runway in the middle of nowhere?” Steve asked. “Won’t that be suspicious?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “One step ahead of you, old man. Look behind you.”

They all looked through the trees in the direction from which they had come, but no airfield was visible. The forest looked like it went on forever.

“It’s the best pop-up book in the world,” Tony said, grinning. He led them into the small cabin, closing and locking the door once they were all in. There was only one room, with a small bed in one corner and a kitchen in the other. The fireplace looked as though it had been there forever. Tony had Steve hold up one end of the bed as he worked to uncover the trap door, herding the team into the dark tunnel underneath. Once they were all in, he closed the trap door and turned on the lights. They walked down a small hallway with fluorescent lights that led to an elevator, and Tony took them to level -6.

“You’ll all stay on this level,” he said. “They get more secure as you go down. I live on -5. There are training and workout facilities on -7, and if HYDRA does happen to come here, you can go to level -8. I guarantee they won’t be able to find you there.”

“What about -9 and -10?” Clint asked.

Tony glanced at him and shrugged. “Just room to keep more stuff.” The elevator door opened and Tony quickly changed the subject. “There are five bedrooms down here with their own bathrooms, a kitchen, and a living room. It isn’t the greatest place to spend time, but it’s the safest.”

Bucky looked at the extravagant furnishings, knowing that he would have had to work half his life just to afford the furniture in the living room. The group spent the rest of the day lounging around he living room or napping, enjoying the feeling of relative safety in Tony’s underground mansion. Sam had gone to take a nap, and Clint and Natasha were engaged in a competitive game of Battleship. Steve had gone to his room to “get settled in,” leaving Bucky in his own room, not knowing what to do. He looked around: king size bed, two nightstands with matching lamps, a dresser, and a large television. Two other doors led to a walk in closet and a large bathroom. The closet was full of clothes in his size and, as much as he hated to admit it, in a style he rather liked. It pained him to know that the man whose parents he had killed would go through the trouble of picking out clothing he thought he would like. His mood was lightened, though, when he noticed the Jacuzzi bathtub, and he soaked in the bubbles for nearly an hour. He thought of how wonderful it had felt to kiss Steve, to finally express what he had been feeling for so long now. He remembered how he hadn’t known the extent of his feelings until he saw Steve with Peggy, and how his heart had felt as if someone were wringing it out, emptying it of all happiness. He had wanted Steve to find someone who loved him, but he hadn’t known until then that it could only be him. Only he could love Steve the way Steve deserved to be loved. Had anyone else asked him to join the Howling Commandos, he would have shook his head and run back to Brooklyn to be with Steve. But no. Steve had been the one leading the missions, and Bucky couldn’t stand to see Steve in danger. He loved him too much.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Bucky’s recoil splashed water out of the tub. “It’s just me,” said the voice on the other side of the door. _Steve_.

“Uh, come in,” Bucky managed.

Steve opened the door cautiously. “I just wanted to check on you. I heard you run the bathwater, but you’ve been here a while.” He took in the sight of Bucky—clean, wet, and…naked. _Wet and very naked_ , Steve thought, silently praying that the tingling he was feeling wouldn’t turn into more visible arousal. _I shouldn’t have come in here_.

“I’m fine,” Bucky replied. “Just doing some remembering.”

Steve gave a small smile, trying not to fidget as he admired Bucky’s scarred, but perfect, body. “Good remembering?”

Bucky recalled Steve’s happiness when Peggy had arrived in the bar that night, and he remembered his own bitter jealousy. “Yeah,” he said. “Good remembering.”

“Good. Well, uh, we’re making dinner soon,” Steve said, adding, “if you’re hungry.”

Bucky cracked a smile. “I’m always hungry. I’ll get dressed.”

Steve tossed him a towel. “I’ll see you out there, then,” he said, quickly leaving the bathroom to go to his own, hoping that he would have enough time to solve the growing problem in his pants before dinner.

Bucky stepped out of the tub and wrapped the towel around his waist before going into the closet to more closely examine what Tony had put there. He found a black pair of jeans that he liked, as well as a white t-shirt, though he scowled at his metal arm as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He could imagine Steven saying _it doesn’t matter to me_ or _you’re still Bu_ cky or _I’m just glad you’re alive_ , but for Bucky, it was a constant reminder not of what had happened to him, but of what he had done to others. He grabbed a grey jacket and set it on the bed. He took a deep breath and stared into the mirror. He imagined Steve standing next to him, fingers entwined with his own and smiling. He frowned, glancing at his metal arm once more before leaving the room, the jacket—his long sleeved option—still lying across his bed.

Bucky entered the living room, where the others were all gathered around the coffee table eating pasta. There was an empty spot between Steve and Sam, and Steve gestured for Bucky to sit. They ate silently, no one quite knowing how to start the conversation they all wanted to have: _what now?_

Tony told them more about the house, but Steve wasn’t listening. He was thinking of Bucky. They needed to talk, he knew, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know how to explain his feelings to Bucky. _I love him more than anyone_ , he thought, _and society would be more accepting of our relationship now than 75 years ago, but still… what would Bucky think?_ Steve didn’t realize hat Bucky was no longer at his side until Sam cleared his throat and looked towards the door. Steve followed his gaze to Bucky, who was leaning hesitantly against the doorframe, as if he were trying on a jacket that he had always worn but somehow didn’t fit right anymore.

“Um, Steve, could I talk to you?” His voice was quieter than it had been before, still laced with uncertainty.

Steve scowled at the thought of Bucky being forever plagued by the Winter Soldier’s influence, but he put on a sympathetic smile and nodded, following Bucky into his room.

Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes downcast and his shoulders hunched. Steve approached slowly before sitting on his left. 

“Steve, I…there are… well…”

The way Bucky struggled with words tugged at Steve’s heart. The old Bucky had never been at a loss for words, though Steve reprimanded himself for using the term “old Bucky.” _He’s still Bucky… my Bucky, and he always will be_ , he thought. “Take your time,” he said gently. Bucky looked up at him and Steve saw that his eyes were beginning to tear up.

“I just don’t know who I am,” Bucky whispered. “I remember who I was back we were young, but I also remember everything I did for HYDRA. But I’m not…I’m not either of those anymore. I’m a…a sick mix of the two,” he spat.

Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky’s shoulder, and the metal arm was cool against his side. Bucky flinched at the contact between his left arm and Steve’s torso, but Steve didn’t seem to mind. “I know,” Steve said. “And no matter who you are now, you’re still my friend, and I’m going to help you get through this.”

Bucky gave a small smile. “Thank you,” he said, returning his gaze to the floor. “I just…I mean, when I say I remember everything from before… I mean it.”

“I believe you,” Steve said.

“And I remember how I felt, watching you when you were sick, or when you were in a fight or something, or when you were hungry, and I remember thinking, ‘I’m going to take care of him. I’m not going to let anything happen to him.’ And then…well, you show up to save my sorry ass from HYDRA during the war, and you were completely different…I mean, you were the same on the inside, but you were bigger. Stronger. Faster. I couldn’t protect you anymore. You were protecting me.” Bucky paused, and Steve squeezed his shoulder gently. “Then I remember seeing you with Agent Carter…and I can’t even begin to explain how I felt.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she liked you for who you were on the inside, not that the outside was bad either, but I remember thinking all along, ‘There’s got to be someone out there for Steve who’ll love him for who he is,’ and I wanted to be happy for you. But I wasn’t. I _couldn’t’_ be. Steve, I…I love you. You mean the world to me, and you always have. But I just… I don’t know. I can’t protect you anymore. I’m not the same person I used to be.”

“Bucky, I don’t understand.” Steve’s voice was shaking slightly. _Was this his way of saying they shouldn’t be together?_

“I fucking love you, Steve!” But the words Steve had been waiting forever to hear weren’t sweet, they were angry. “I _love_ you, don’t you get it?” Bucky’s voice was loud now, but he didn’t care if the others heard him. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known what love is because my feelings for you taught me what it was. All those girls? I don’t even fucking know what they were. A front, maybe. I tried to tell myself that I loved you like a brother, but I never could convince myself. Not when I was kissing Lisa, or Sally, or Maggie and imagining that it was you _every fucking time_. And then— _finally_ —you kiss me, but then you act like it never happened and you don’t want to talk about it. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same way, but at least tell me.”

Bucky was in tears by the end of his rant, and Steve immediately felt sick. He didn’t want to cause Bucky this much pain, not when their feelings for each other were so similar. “Buck, I…I _do_ love you. I love you _so_ much.”

“But?” Bucky asked cynically, a scathing smile on his lips.

Steve bit his bottom lip. “But I thought I shouldn’t have kissed you then. Even though I wanted to, I felt like I should have waited. I felt as if I took advantage of you when you were going through too much emotionally. And I thought maybe you didn’t want me to.”

Bucky’s look of disbelief puzzled Steve. Was he angry? Happy? It was impossible to tell, so Steve waited silently for Bucky’s response.

“Really?” Bucky finally asked. “That’s it?” The anger in his expression quickly faded, leaving a rather dumbfounded look in its place.

“That’s it,” Steve said reassuringly. “I love you, Bucky. I just didn’t know how you loved me back.”

“You’re an idiot,” Bucky said, wiping away the tears on his cheeks. He smiled up at Steve, who leaned down to kiss him, without doubt this time. It was slow and sweet, expressing nearly a century of love and loyalty.

Steve pulled away and said, “I know,” before kissing Bucky’s soft lips again and gently lowering them down until their backs hit the bed, unaware that Tony, Sam, Natasha, and Clint were outside their door, smirking or scowling as they exchanged money to settle their bets.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are all gems for waiting this long for an update. I thought this chapter would be easy to write, but (for a variety of reasons) it ended up being the most difficult. It's un-beta'd as of now, but eventually I'll update it. Thanks!

Steve straddled Bucky on the bed, placing soft kisses down his neck to his collarbone before working his way up again. Bucky moaned quietly underneath him. It had been so long since he had felt anything as good as this—no, he had _never_ felt anything as good as this, as good as Steve. Every inch of his body was ringing in pleasure, but his mind—where traces of the Winter Soldier still lingered—was anxious. _The Asset is not allowed to feel pleasure_. He tried keeping quiet as Steve’s lips and teeth played softly where his neck met his shoulder, but small moans of pleasure continued to escape.

“Buck,” Steve whispered huskily, half a statement of admiration and half a request for permission to continue. He brought his face level with Bucky’s and kissed him once more on the lips, slowly and passionately, before bringing his hand under his shirt to caress the soft skin underneath.

Bucky gave a small, lopsided smile that didn’t quite hide his nervousness. “Yeah?” He remembered hoping something like this would happen with Steve, but he hadn’t pictured it this way. He remembered having dreams about a short, skinny young man who was always sick with something, having dreams about trying to keep quiet while he made Steve come undone in their tiny old apartment.

Steve grinned and sat back, pulling Bucky up into a sitting position and pulling him into a close embrace, inhaling deeply before lifting his shirt above his head. He leaned Bucky back onto the bed again, running his hands along his bare torso. His hands traced the angry scars where Bucky’s metal arm met his shoulder, their redness renewed by his latest HYDRA encounter. Bucky squirmed and looked away, immediately wishing he could hide the scars from the one he loved, but Steve just smiled and whispered, “You’re beautiful. Your arm doesn’t change that.” Bucky gave a sad smile, and Steve lowered his head to place a trail of kisses along the junction of flesh and metal.

Bucky eventually relaxed completely under his touch, moaning in appreciation. “S’not fair, though,” he murmured, looking up at Steve and touching the end of his shirt. “You’ve still got your shirt on.”

Steve chuckled and sat up, allowing Bucky to lift it over his head and trace his hands over his muscled chest. “Roll over,” Steve said, getting off Bucky to allow him to move. Bucky hesitated, still weary of being unable to see those around him, but he did as he was told, though the look in his eyes asked why.

Bucky’s question was answered as Steve’s strong hands began massaging his back. He relaxed immediately and his eyes fell shut. “Mmmmmph.” Steve continued to work the tension out of Bucky’s muscles, and he soon went completely silent.

“Buck?” Steve murmured, running a hand gently through his hair. Bucky rolled over onto his side and pulled Steve down next to him. “Steve, I…I want you…I always have,” he said, though his attempt to stifle a yawn did not go unnoticed by Steve.

“Go to sleep, Buck,” Steve said. With a cheeky grin, he added, “I’ll stay right here with you, and we can do anything you want in the morning.”

Bucky smiled back and had hardly mumbled the words, “Thanks, Steve,” before he was asleep, his fingers curled around Steve’s.

 

_He’s with Sam on their mission to find Bucky after the incident in D.C., and it’s hard for Steve to concentrate on the simple things like driving and eating when he knows they’re so close. That’s what Sam’s there for, he supposes, to make sure Captain America eats his breakfast every morning. But then they’ve reached the HYDRA base, and even though they’ve searched a dozen bases already, Steve knows this is the one. They take out the guards on the roof before making their way to the doors, where two more HYDRA agents stand. Each door is the same, and it feels like they’ve passed a hundred of them, but Steve leads the way through the dark corridors. He knows that Bucky is here this time. They’ve reached the last door, and he gives Sam the honor of taking out the guards. The door opens and Steve can see Bucky strapped to a chair, Alexander Pierce standing tall over him. He can’t hear Pierce’s words, but he watches as the man strikes Bucky across the face. Bucky’s expression is pained, and when his eyes meet Steve’s there is no glimmer of recognition. Pierce hits him again, and Steve can’t stand to see Bucky harmed this way. He aims carefully, knowing that if he misses, he could hit Bucky. Suddenly, Pierce is in front of him, frowning. “You can’t save him. He’s already gone.” Steve pulls the trigger, and as the body falls to the floor, Bucky’s body disappears._

Steve woke up sweating in the dark. He could see Bucky lying next to him, eyes open, sad.

“Steve?” Bucky asked quietly, hesitating a moment before trailing a finger gently across Steve’s hand.

He nodded. “Just a nightmare.”

“I don’t remember you having those before,” Bucky said, his brow furrowed. _Before all of this_.

“Never anything scary enough to have nightmares about.”

Bucky frowned and reached his arm out to place it around Steve’s shoulder. “I’ll get a glass of water for you.”

“Nah, Buck. It’s okay. I’m okay.” Bucky’s eyes gave away his doubt. “Really,” Steve insisted.

Bucky climbed out of bed anyway, changing out of the jeans he had fallen asleep in and putting on sweatpants. He grabbed the t-shirt, but after considering it, threw it back on the floor.

“I’ll come with you,” Steve said, following him out into the hallway. He expected the living room to be dark, but a cool glow came from the TV.

Sam was sitting on the couch and looked up when they entered. He looked at the two bare-chested super soldiers and chuckled, but the laugh couldn’t cover up the look of exhaustion in his eyes. “It’s three in the morning,” he said, as if it were perfectly acceptable for him to be awake, but not anyone else.

Bucky swallowed nervously, glancing at his arm and wishing he had put the t-shirt on. He moved behind Steve and went into the kitchen, hoping that getting two glasses of water would be a time-consuming task. 

“Just a nightmare,” Steve said nonchalantly. “Bucky’s more worried about it than I am.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, “and why do you think I’m watching _I Love Lucy_ at three in the morning?”

Steve sat down on the arm of the couch. “Yeah?”

“Gets really old after a while,” Sam said, “because it’s the only thing on TV I’ll watch this time in the morning, but I’ve seen all the episodes a million times.”

“Every night?” Steve asked. He hoped he wasn’t the only one.

Sam shook his head. “No. That’d be exhausting. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Me?”

Sam chucked. “You really thought I could spend a month looking for him with you and not notice that you never sleep through the night?”

“It could be worse,” Steve said. Sam’s raised eyebrow was his reply. “They didn’t happen regularly until I found out he was still alive. And I went down so soon after he fell, there wasn’t time for nightmares back then, either. Then, when I woke up and…and the rest of the world said that he’d been dead more than sixty years. And there were so many other things to take in, to learn about, to be distracted by… I had plenty of nightmares, sure. But they started to go away after a while.”

“Talking about it helps,” Sam said.

 Not much more to say,” Steve replied.

Sam shook his head. “I feel the need to remind you that the offer is on the table.”

Bucky reemerged with three glasses, handing one to Sam who, though surprised, smiled and thanked him. Steve stood to go with Bucky back to his room. “Hope the next episode is a good one,” Steve said to Sam as they left. Sam’s eyes returned to the screen and he raised his glass of water in return.

 

Back in bed, Steve stared at the ceiling as Bucky trailed lazy patterns across his chest. “Tell me about us back in Brooklyn,” Bucky said quietly, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

“You said you remembered everything,” Steve replied, his brow furrowing in concern.

Bucky shifted uncomfortably. “Enough of everything,” he mumbled. “Enough that matters. The big things, y’know? Help me remember more of the little things.”

“You should sleep,” Steve told him.

“And you?”

Steve sighed. “Fine. Remember Mrs. Rosenberg upstairs?” They both settled back underneath the covers. Bucky chewed on his lip in concentration, so Steve continued. “She liked us. Well, she liked me anyway.”

Bucky chuckled. “Who didn’t?”

“She thought you were trouble, even though you weren’t. You were a great student, a nice kid. Always respectful. It was probably just all the different girls she saw you with. She liked to look out her window, and she’d see you walk by sometimes, a different girl on your arm each time.”

“None of them meant anything to me,” Bucky said. “Even if I wanted them to.”

Steve smiled and intertwined his fingers with Bucky’s. “But she felt bad for me—asthmatic, always getting sick. She gave us a pie once, on my birthday. Apple. We wanted to make it last, but it was gone the next day. We were happy about it though.”

Bucky remembered the aroma that had followed Steve through the door when he had brought the pie home, grinning as he presented it to him like a trophy.

“Maybe…” Bucky started. _Maybe we can have apple pie again_ , he wanted to say, but he felt HYDRA’s influence closing in around him and he couldn’t speak, couldn’t make any special requests.

“What is it, Buck?”

Steve’s hand was a comforting weight against his skin. “Maybe… I mean, could we maybe have apple pie again sometime?” His voice was barely audible, and he swallowed nervously.

Steve smiled. “Of course we can. Absolutely. I’ll make it tomorrow. And if Tony doesn’t have the ingredients to make it here, I’ll make it for you as soon as we’re back home.”

_Home_ , Bucky thought, and the thought of him going back to Steve’s apartment made him feel as if everything might just be okay.

 

In the morning, the group assembled in the kitchen for breakfast and briefing. Sam had made pancakes, and though they all noticed, no one said anything about Steve and Bucky sitting so close to one another. Tony explained the information Jarvis had gathered: high-up HYDRA officials had arrived at the base in Vermont only a half hour after they had flown out of the area. They were all currently on the list of HYDRA targets, but by tapping into their radios, Tony had learned that they were not confident of their ability to catch the five of them without The Asset. At that, Bucky frowned and lowered his gaze to the floor. Steve wrapped a comforting arm around him, whispering, “it’s okay,” in his ear. Tony continued, saying that as of now, HYDRA had no information on their current location, and likely wouldn’t be gaining any more.

“What about Pepper?” Natasha asked. “They’ll go after her.”

Tony frowned. “I know. She’s not the only one they’ll be going after, but I’m working on it. In the meantime, it’s important that we stay here. No one leaves this house until we have a plan that we’ve all agreed on.”

None of them were particularly looking forward to a whole day of strategic planning, but Steve had managed bribe them all into working by promising an apple pie if they had a plan by dinnertime. While they were all pleasantly surprised by the offer, none of their smiles matched Bucky’s, who turned his head away to hide his childish grin.

 

It was mid-afternoon, and they had been sitting around the living room planning since breakfast. After staying up the rest of the night talking, both Steve and Bucky were beginning to doze off, with Bucky growing closer to falling asleep in Steve’s lap as each minute passed. Clint had been hacking the HYDRA databases for hours, his eyes glazed as he scrolled through page after page of information. Sam and Tony were still studying maps, and Sam earned a glare from Tony each time he yawned. Natasha was the first person to stand up.

“That’s it, I’m taking a break. I’ll be in the gym.”

The others seemed to wake up a bit at her exit, and from the hallway they heard her yell, “You’re coming with me, Barton!”

Clint blinked a few times, refocusing his eyes before getting to his feet. He shrugged. “Whatever she’s got planned can’t possibly be worse than another hour of this.”

After Clint left, Tony looked at his watch. “I’ve got something to take care of. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Sam and Steve looked at each other, and then at Bucky who had fallen asleep on Steve’s lap. “You should sleep, too,” Sam said.

Steve shook his head. “I won’t be able to.”

Sam turned on the TV and propped his feet up on the table. “Is it always the same nightmare?” He turned on the news channel.

Steve shrugged. “Same ending, different way of getting there.” He paused for a moment. “Sam, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. I really do. But I’m fine.”

Sam shook his head. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

Steve sighed. “I thought having him back would help.”

“And it doesn’t?”

“It just makes losing him a possibility again. When I thought he had died, there was only one way to see it in my head. First the train, then the fall. That was it. Now, the possibilities are endless.”

Sam frowned. “Have you talked to him about it?” he gestured to Bucky. “I’m sure he has nightmares, too. Talking with him about _his_ nightmares could help you get rid of _yours_.”

“Maybe,” Steve replied, not wanting to continue with the subject. Sam didn’t push the issue, and soon, Steve was curled up around Bucky like they used to sleep back in their old apartment when the winters grew too cold for Steve to manage. 

 

_It’s cold. Steve can’t feel his fingers, and if he couldn’t see them still attached to his hand he would have sworn they had fallen off. The train is moving quickly, but not too quickly for their mission. It’s manageable. He feels empty without Bucky beside him, but as soon as the thought crosses his mind, Bucky’s climbing into the train carriage beside him, his weapon loaded and a mischievous grin on his face. “Let’s get those bastards, eh Stevie?” Bucky never spoke like that when the other commandos were nearby, but right now, it was just the two of them. Steve smiles back and nods. “Let’s go.”_

_Then Bucky is hanging on to the side of the train and Steve extends his hand. He knows he’s never seen the expression on Bucky’s face before. He’s not just scared of falling, he’s afraid to leave Steve. Sad that he can’t come with him to finish the mission and then go home to Brooklyn. Accepting that this was how he was going to die. Thankful that it wasn’t Steve whose fingers were going to slip in three, two, one…_

_He’s gone, and Steve doesn’t know how he’ll be able to finish the mission without him. He watches as Bucky’s body becomes smaller and smaller, thankful that he’s too far away to see him hit the ground. Tears are falling down his face, and as he pulls himself back into the train car, he comes face to face with Red Skull. Steve pulls his weapon, but the HYDRA monster begins laughing. The weapon turns to dust in Steve’s hands and the other man continues to laugh. Steve lunges for his neck and is able to wrap his long fingers around it, squeezing until he sees Red Skull’s breathing becoming difficult and then squeezing harder. “You killed him,” Steve hisses. “You killed him!” Red Skull fights back, trying to pull Steve’s away. “You killed him! You monster!” Steve yells, but it’s as if Red Skull can’t hear him. “Steve!” “Steve!” He hears another commando shouting at him, but he doesn’t care. Red Skull is his mission. He has to finish the mission. He has to do it for Bucky._

“Steve!” Sam’s arms were around him, yanking him away from Bucky’s shaking, terrified body. Bucky bolted off the couch as soon as Steve’s grip allowed, and Steve could see the red marks around his neck. Realization of what happened hit him harder than any nightmare ever could. “Buck,” he tried to say, but his voice was hoarse and Bucky wasn’t listening. His eyes were glazed over, and Steve could see the Winter Soldier behind them, not violent, but sad, confused, and alone. Sam half dragged Steve into the kitchen, concealing Bucky from his view as he ran out of the living room.

Sam shoved Steve into a chair at the table, staring silently at him for a long moment. His expression was impossible for Steve to read, and when he finally spoke, he sounded sad, not angry. “Steve, you have to do something about this. ”

“I didn’t…” Steve started, but he couldn’t finish his sentence. There were so many things he wanted to say, but none could reflect the horror that was tearing him apart on the inside.

“Just breathe, man,” Sam said quietly. Steve looked up at him, trying to come up with something to say. He looked at his own shaking hands, which only a minute ago had been around Bucky’s neck, squeezing. “I know,” Sam said. “I know. Stay here. I’ll go check on him.”

 

Sam opened the door to Bucky’s room and found the other man sitting in the corner, his knees pulled up to his chest, staring at the wall opposite him. “Bucky,” Sam said, but there was no response. Bucky remained silent, trapped within his own mind. It appeared as if he didn’t even know of Sam’s presence, but Sam knew better. The Winter Soldier never missed details. “Bucky,” he repeated, trying to bring the other man into the present and out of the Winter Soldier’s mindset. “Steve’s been having a rough time lately, and I know you know that, but I just wanted to remind you that he didn’t mean to do that. He’s haunted just as much as we are, and sometimes even he can’t hide it.” Bucky’s eyes flickered up to meet his own for a brief moment before returning to the same place on the wall. Sam frowned and closed the door, returning to Steve in the kitchen.

 Steve looked up as Sam entered the room, and he immediately became aware of the extent of the damage he had done. There was nothing optimistic in Sam’s expression, and Steve was crushed under the weight of Sam’s words as he said, “I don’t know where Bucky’s at, but the guy in there looks an awful lot like the Winter Soldier to me.”

“What have I done?” he whispered, returning his head to his hands and trying to think of how he could possibly regain Bucky’s trust. _He’ll trust you again_ , a part of him thought. _He always has_. But still he couldn’t shake the fear that one of these days, he would lose Bucky for good.

 

Bucky’s exterior was ice, but inside he was battling a whirlwind of thoughts about Steve and HYDRA and the Winter Soldier. _I was safe with Steve,_ Bucky thought, but the Winter Soldier argued. _No, Steve must be HYDRA too. He tried to hurt me. But he’s my friend. No, he was my mission—my failed mission. HYDRA wouldn’t have me kill one of their own. Unless they knew I would fail… they knew I wouldn’t be able to kill him. I’m not useful to them anymore. How do I become useful again? What use is a gun if it doesn’t fire? What use is a knife that won’t draw blood? When does The Asset become The Liability? No, you’re not The Asset anymore… you’re James Buchanan Barnes. Steve is your best friend, your_ only _friend left in this world. He can help you, and you can help him. Your home is with Steve. You have to protect him. He won’t make it on his own._

Bucky didn’t realize he was crying until the tears falling down his cheeks turned into sobs that wracked his entire body and made it difficult to breathe. _Steve_.


End file.
